The Deep Zone: A Novel (20 page)

“Right.”

“I think the only one we have to be concerned about is Rafael.”

At the word “we” Hallie saw him glance at her, but he did not appear to take it as any kind of challenge. “I agree.”

“He’s just older and doesn’t have as much time underground as we do.”

“Whose idea was it to bring him?”

“Mostly David Lathrop’s. There was concern at his agency about relations with Mexico. Arguello covers that, and the native population as well.”

“You have to admire his grit.”

That conversation ended, and then it was her turn to look into
his
eyes, and it wasn’t for vertigo or disorientation.

“How was I supposed to take that wink back at BARDA, Mr. Bowman?”

“
Doctor
Bowman to you, ma’am.” He was smiling.
Great teeth
, Hallie thought. When she was growing up, her mother had told her, countless times,
Pay attention to a man’s teeth because they’ll tell you a lot about him. You want good breeding teeth when the time comes
. Her mother, the horsewoman.

He appeared to consider her question very seriously. “Well, maybe it was gratitude. I thought we were finished. But then you pulled that group together—a very impressive thing to see.”

“Maybe?” She watched his eyes and once again thought of ice in great mountains: Alaska, the Alps and Andes, ancient ice of glaciers and crevasses, night-blue ice only the passage of centuries could create, too deep and cold for any life. But now, so much closer, she saw something that had escaped her before—tiny specks of gold glinting in the blue ice. Or was it a trick of light, reflecting off some odd cave crystal? She moved her head slightly, changing the angle, but those gold flecks stayed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” he asked.

Why indeed?
“I thought there might be something in your eye.”

“My eyes feel fine.”

“And they look fine.” What had they been talking about?
Oh yes
. “So it was about gratitude for some team building.”

“I
was
very grateful. We all were.”

“Anything else, Dr. Bowman?”

A half smile, the cool blue eyes thawing. “You’re a beautiful woman, Hallie.”

You’re a beautiful woman
. She had encountered that approach before, the “open and honest,” feigned-neutral-innocence posture. But there had always been something neither open nor honest lurking
just below the surface, a dark craving. Bowman’s words did not strike her that way. It was her turn to toy.

“But, Dr. Bowman, I might have a husband.”

“Nope. You don’t.” His smile was too satisfied for her liking.

“How would you know?”

“Did you forget what Lathrop said about us?”

Unmarried, live alone, no significant others, and have no children
. “I had forgotten that. It works both ways, doesn’t it?”

He understood. “Sure does.”

Without thinking, she said, “That surprises me. About you, I mean.”

Without hesitating, he said, “Don’t misunderstand this. But it doesn’t surprise me. About you.”

It felt like something in what he had just said should offend her, but she wasn’t sure what. “Why not?”

“You’re not the most approachable woman I’ve ever met, Hallie. I would imagine not many men have the confidence to storm those walls.”

Storm those walls
. She wasn’t offended. It was hard to be offended by the truth.

She shrugged. “Not many men do. Oh, they try, but—too tall, too assertive, too many degrees, too …” She looked for the right word.

“Detached?”

She nodded. But Hallie did not feel detached just then, and she knew her eyes showed it.

“Some might put all those in the plus column.”

She waited, wanting to see what would happen, what he sensed. Many men’s brains, she had found, dropped into their crotches at moments like this. But for her it was as though a sphere of the thinnest crystal floated between them. A crude movement would shatter it, and such a thing, once lost, could not be retrieved.

Bowman made no move to kiss or grope. He just stood there, his
head cocked slightly to one side, a hint of smile flickering on his face. He looked at her from beneath his eyebrows. She realized he was waiting to see what
she
was going to do.

She pulled off her helmet and, standing on tiptoe, which she rarely had to do for this purpose, kissed him lightly on the cheek. He tasted of salt and mineral-tinged cave water. After she kissed him there, she stepped back, smiling like an imp, waiting to see what would happen. He picked up her hand and kissed her fingertips.

She watched him do that, then stood there looking into his eyes. He looked straight back, and for just an instant she saw a flash of pain; then it was gone, his eyes softening again.

She spoke first. “I guess that wasn’t very professional.”

“I think it was—” Distracted by something, he looked away from her. “Light coming.”

“God
damn
,” she said.

“Amen.”

They watched Arguello rise dripping from the sump. He handed his pack up to Hallie, and Bowman hoisted him onto the cave floor with not much more difficulty than he had exhibited in lifting her. Shivering, pale, Arguello took off his rebreather.

“Piece of p-pie.” His voice shook.

“Piece of
cake
.” She patted him on the shoulder.

Arguello grimaced. “Yes. Cake. Of course. I knew that.”

“No problems, then?” Bowman was watching Arguello as he had watched Hallie.

“Not really. I have dived, of course, but not much in visibility so low, and once I almost lost the guideline. But I got him back quickly.” Arguello’s English was excellent, but Hallie understood that the stress of the dive was scrambling his grammar. “It was colder than I had thought it might be.” Arguello, whippet-thin, had not an ounce of extra body fat.

“Maybe I’ll brew up some hot tea for everybody,” Bowman said. “We could all use a bracer.”

“Let me do that. You pay attention to the divers.” Hallie went to a flat-topped rock nearby, set up one of the little mountaineering stoves they were carrying, and began heating water in an aluminum pot. In the cave, the small stove’s hissing formed a steady high note over the wind and the flowing water’s bass lines. The burner’s circle of flame under the pot cast a sapphire glow.

Before the water boiled, Al Cahner surfaced in the pool, splashed around, and waded to the edge. Arguello took his pack and Bowman reached down to lift him out. They locked hands and Bowman heaved, and Hallie was surprised to hear him grunt with the effort.

“You’re heavier than you look,” he said to Cahner.

For a second, Cahner just stared. Then, pulling off his rebreather unit, he smiled and said, “Maybe I absorbed some water. Like a sponge?” Bowman chuckled and Cahner continued: “Well, that was really something. I mean, I have done some serious scuba diving, but
that
, my friends, was … extraordinary.”

“Did your rebreather work okay?” Bowman asked.

“Oh, yes, fine. I loved the heads-up display. Never used one like that before.”

“Tea’s almost ready,” Hallie called.

“In my pack you’ll find a bit of medicinal,” Bowman said, still standing with Cahner. “I’d say we could all do with a tot. It’s in a red flask.”

She went to his pack, opened it, and found the flask. Back at the boulder table, she poured a good dollop of liquor into each metal mug of tea, stirred in sugar and a little powdered lemonade, and carried three over to the men, who were standing beside the sump awaiting Haight’s arrival.

“Here you go. Service with a smile.”

“
Thank
you.” Cahner blew on the hot liquid, sipped gingerly, his eyes going wide. “Whooo. Rum.”

Arguello took a mug, but Bowman declined the third. “Why don’t you have that one?” he told Hallie.

“There’s more back there.”

“He should have been here by now.” Bowman was watching the surface of the lake.

“Haight? No worries about him. He’s probably the most experienced cave diver among us.” But she understood that Bowman had refused the rum-laced tea in case he might have to dive again. She went ahead and sampled the spiked tea herself. It exploded in her mouth, seared her tongue, and burned all the way down to her stomach. Maybe the best drink she had ever tasted.

“Whew. That’s
some
rum.”

“One hundred eighty proof,” Bowman said. “Real Navy grog.”

“If I’d known that, I’d have been a bit lighter with the pours.”

“It’s absolutely bracing.” Cahner, sipping gingerly. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

Bowman was looking at his watch. “By my reckoning, he’s almost ten minutes overdue.”

“Bowman, really, he’s …” Her reassurance faded. In fact, she, too, was becoming concerned about Haight.

“I know his experience. But it makes his absence more troubling.”

That, she had to admit, was true. Still, it had been a relatively straightforward dive, if you could ever say that about a cave dive. Tight passage and poor visibility, sure, but Haight would have dealt with worse many times.

Bowman picked up his rebreather. “I’m going back. I want all of you to stay here. If I don’t return, you are not to come looking for me. Hallie will become the mission leader.”

“Bowman.” Hallie stepped forward. “I’m coming. You should have a buddy.”

“Not in a cave rescue. Or recovery. Protocol for those is solo. Two divers doubles the likelihood of problems. You know that.”

She did. He was right, and she backed off.

“Is everyone clear?” Bowman’s voice was sharper.

Each of them voiced acknowledgment. But Arguello held up a hand. “I understand the mission-critical aspect of what you just described.
But I have an unpleasant question. If you do not return, it will presumably be because you have drowned in the tunnel. If that is the case, how will we make the return passage?”

“You will have to pull me out. Ron, too, if it comes to that. Clear?”

They acknowledged the instruction. Bowman geared up and got into the water. They watched him sink beneath the surface, his helmet lights dimming and disappearing quickly as he retraced the route. Hallie felt part of her heart sinking as well.

They sat on nearby rocks and turned off their lights to conserve batteries.

Before long, Al Cahner spoke, his voice tense: “I hope to God that young man is all right. He’s a bit rough around the edges, but really quite likable.”

“Haight’s dived some of the toughest caves in the country,” Hallie pointed out. “My guess is he’s just taking his time, having fun with a new toy, his rebreather.”

No one spoke for a while. Hallie took a Snickers bar from a pocket of her caving suit, unwrapped it, and broke it into three pieces. Without turning on her light, she stood and walked to where Arguello was sitting. She moved lightly, the sound of wind and flowing water covering her footsteps.

“Have some chocolate, Rafael.”

“Jesus.”
Arguello, startled, jumped off his rock seat. “Where did you come from?”

She moved on to Cahner, handed him a piece, and returned to her own place.

“How did you do that?” Arguello asked the question through a mouthful of Snickers.

“I learned it from other cavers a long time ago. You should, too. Before you turn off your light, make a mental snapshot of your surroundings. It’s hard at first, but gets to be second nature after a while. You’d be amazed at how much detail you can retain with practice.”

“I will try to learn how to do that myself.”

“It’s a necessary skill down here,” Cahner said.

Then they were quiet. Hallie listened to the sound of air moving through the cave, and to flowing water, and she felt the cave enveloping them. Most people thought caves were dead and silent places, she knew, but they were rarely silent and never dead. Life thrived in every cave, often weird life, it was true, but weirdness was really in the eye of the beholder.

And then, almost as if he had been reading her mind, Arguello spoke:

“I was telling you earlier that many native peoples believe caves are alive.”

“Tell me—tell
us
—more,” Cahner said.

“I am pleased by your interest. Many scientists are quick to dismiss such things.”

“These people and their beliefs have survived for thousands of years. That says something,” Cahner pointed out.

“Indeed. So, the Cuicatecs say that caves breathe, which we know they do. They have circulatory systems, which is also true. Ours have blood in them; caves’ systems have mineral-rich water.”

Arguello paused to chew a bit of candy bar, then continued: “There’s more. According to Cuicatec beliefs, caves eat and excrete—two more of science’s criteria for classifying something as a living organism.”

“I’m not sure I get those,” Cahner said.

“Think of the earth as a big apple and a cave as a worm eating tunnels through it. And caves do have excretory systems—the rivers that flush waste from them. And they can heal themselves when injured.”

Cahner nodded. “All true, when you really think about it.”

Hallie had a question of her own. “So those are all the physical characteristics, Rafael. What about the other? The spirit? The thing they call Chi Con Gui-Jao.”

“The Cuicatecs believe that the first people were born out of this cave into the light. This cave and a few others. As we saw, they
made sacrifices to appease the spirits that live here. For many centuries, also, they buried their dead here, because they felt it brought them closer to the gods who inhabit the cave.”

“You said
gods
, plural,” Hallie noted. “So it’s not just Chi Con Gui-Jao?”

“Oh, no. There are others. Chi Con is like Zeus in the other myths, the god of all gods. But many others exist, some good, some bad. For the ancients who inhabited this region, the cave was like our heaven—but also like our hell.”

“So you had demons and angels all living down here together?”

“That is right. In perfect balance. And only the
curanderos
could summon them. But not every
curandero
could summon every god.”

“You lost me,” Cahner said.