Latitude 38

by Ron Hutchison

  A roll of summertime thunder rattled the air outside the cave. The grumbling burst of weather shook the air for several seconds. In the next moment, a flash of lightning lit the sky beyond the hole leading into the Hotel Lobby. A bright spear of light entered the cavern and lit one wall. Another loud thunderclap followed the dazzling display of lightning.

  Diego said, “I thought you said rain wasn’t in the forecast, Cutbirth.”

  “I stand by it,” Cutbirth said.

  “He stands by it,” Henry ridiculed.

  “It will rain somewhere,” Cutbirth said, “but not here.”

  Cutbirth looked over at Adriana. “Try not to be the slowest buffalo, Little Mother.”

  “I’ll do my best,” she said.

  Cutbirth scanned every face with his light and said, “Are we ready?”

  “Ready!” they replied.

  Cutbirth turned and moved down the narrow passageway leading out of the Hotel Lobby. Hand in hand, Sissy and Emily followed. Next were Henry and Yong. Diego and Adriana brought up the rear. His arm around her waist, her arm around his neck—he had a pack slung over each shoulder—Diego supported his wife as they wobbled down the passageway.

  Diego hoped the worst was over.

  20

  None of Diego’s fellow first-time spelunkers was comfortable in the dark cave, he noted. Headlamps should have been pointed straight ahead during the hike down the narrow passageway, but instead the lights crisscrossed the walls, ceiling, and floor, as if set into motion by a tribe of visually-impaired escapees from the local insane asylum. It reminded Diego of an eccentric disco light show from the 20th century. It was almost amusing.

  Although the tunnel was narrow, all of Diego’s energy went to keeping Adriana upright, and his claustrophobic fears (at least for the moment) remained faceless. For the first time in many days, all the pessimistic voices inside his head had been silenced, and Diego was now confident that Adriana and he would cross the 38th latitude. They were in the cave, and the bounty hunters were little more than a memory. Success, it seemed, was within their grasp.

  They had hiked for less than 15 minutes—Adriana had not recovered fully, but she and Diego were able to keep pace—when the tunnel emptied into a larger chamber, one measuring 60 feet across and 30 feet high. The chamber appeared to be a dead end.

  “Where do we go from here?” Henry said, his headlamp scanning the colorless walls.

  “I know where I’d like for you to go,” Cutbirth said.

  That drew a small, relaxed laugh from Sissy.

  Cutbirth said, “If it looks like a dead-end and smells like a dead-end, Henry, then it must be a dead-end.” He paused. “Except it’s not. Mother Cave does not give up her secrets willingly.” He shone his light on a limestone balcony carved out of the far wall. The rocky stall overlooked the grayish chamber from a height of eight feet or so.

  “Follow me,” Cutbirth said, striding over to the base of the pod-like booth. The irregular wall leading up to the balcony was bedecked with many hand- and footholds, and Cutbirth threw his moneybag up into it, and then quickly ascended the eight-foot wall. In the next instant he and the beam from his headlamp disappeared.

  “Where’d he go?” Yong asked, his headlamp fixed on the balcony. Those were the first words Yong had spoken since they had entered the cave. Diego noted that Yong’s voice was still watery, but he seemed engaged.

  Confused, everyone looked at each other. Cutbirth had simply vanished.

  “Come on up!” came Cutbirth’s voice, which reverberated throughout the chamber as an echo.

  Adriana exhaled a tired breath. She looked at Diego and said, “Impress me with your Indiana Jones skills.”

  Diego set the backpacks on the floor, and then made the effortless climb up and into the spacious alcove. In the rear of the rocky cranny was an opening in the floor large enough to drive a car through. Diego stepped over to the hole and directed the beam from his headlamp into it. The hole extended downward at a mild 20-degree angle for about 15 feet. The frightful face of Arnold Cutbirth appeared at the other end of the limestone canal.

  “Slide, Ad Man!” Cutbirth said, waving him down.

  Diego stepped over to the lip of the alcove and called down to his wife. “It’s okay, Adriana. Come on up.” After lifting each backpack up to Diego, Adriana grabbed her husband’s hand and scaled the wall with little effort. He led her to the opening. Adriana paused at the lip of the canal for a few moments before slithering gracefully to the bottom and joining Cutbirth.

  “Okay?” Diego called down to her.

  “Okay,” Adriana said, giving him a little wave.

  Diego waited as the remaining members of Team Cutbirth—Sissy, Emily, Henry, and Yong—climbed into the balcony. He watched each of them make the short slide down the rocky tube, and then followed himself.

  When he reached the bottom, Diego jumped to his feet and inspected the chamber, which was about the size of a small gymnasium and adorned with dozens of cave drawings. His headlamp found Adriana at the foot of an adjacent wall. She was examining a painted replica of a mammoth.

  “Diego, look at this!” Adriana cried.

  He went over to where his wife stood admiring the painting.

  “Mammoths in Missouri?” Sissy said, directing her light onto the image.

  “Beautiful,” Yong observed, stepping closer.

  The mammoth was sandwiched between a small herd of pot-bellied horses and animals resembling camels.

  “Yeah, prehistoric animals,” Cutbirth said casually. He had seen it all before. “Petroglyphs.”

  “I still don’t believe it,” Adriana whispered, moving closer to the wall and studying the elephant-like figure. “But these aren’t petroglyphs, Mr. Cutbirth!” she declared, her voice trembling. “They’re pictographs!”

  “What’s the difference?” Emily asked, moving in beside Adriana.

  Adriana said, “Pictographs are painted onto stone, Emily. Petroglyphs are chiseled into stone. Because pictographs are painted, they’re much more fragile than glyphs. The paint is some sort of mineral substance mixed with fat residue or blood. If the paint isn’t properly mixed, it won’t adhere to the stone.” Adriana paused to catch her breath. When she began to wobble she placed her hand against the wall for balance. Diego helped steady her. She looked at him with a tight smile. “A little lightheaded.”

  “Slow down, professor.”

  Adriana closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then opened her eyes and turned back to the archaic frescos. She said, “Diego, do you realize this could be the oldest pictograph ever discovered in North America?” Stepping back, her headlamp scanned the length of the wall and the other drawings. “This chamber is a primeval version of the Louvre!” She rocked forward again and grabbed Diego’s shoulder. In a faint voice she said, “Still a little dizzy.”

  “I’d love to stand here and admire them,” Cutbirth said, “but we’ve got to keep going. I do not believe Uno and Mr. Mustache will enter this cave, but stranger things have happened, Little Mother.”

  Diego was certain he detected the faint tone of alarm in Cutbirth’s voice.

  “Mr. Cutbirth!” Adriana spat, her hands on her hips, her headlamp on his face. “You may call me Adriana, Mrs. Sanchez or Ms. Sanchez, but I would appreciate it”—she paused to snatch another ragged breath—“if you would refrain from calling me ‘Little Mother’! I am not a mother, little or otherwise!”

  Diego’s whole face smiled. He hadn’t heard such fervor in Adriana’s voice in months.

  A gnarly frown creased Cutbirth’s face. He said, “I can’t tell you people how pleased I am to know that this will be my last trip under the 38th latitude. And once we exit this cave, I will separate myself from each of you post haste.” He shone his light on Adriana and said, “Adriana it is.”

  “Thank you.” She shot him a final glance, and then turned back to the prehistoric drawings, the anger draining from her face. “Emily, this is what’s called a Columbia Mamm
oth,” Adriana said, her light illuminating the artwork, “which is not to be confused with its smaller cousin, the Siberian Wooly Mammoth.”

  Emily seemed spellbound by the paintings. She raised her camera and snapped several pictures. “Move a little to the right, Mrs. Sanchez,” Emily said, waving Adriana to the right. “I’ll get a picture of you standing next to the Columbus Mammoth.” Adriana stepped to her right and Emily shot the picture.

  “Columbia Mammoth,” Adriana smiled.

  “Oh, sure. Columbia Mammoth.”

  “That’s wonderful. Now let’s go, Adriana,” Cutbirth said, nodding toward to the tunnel leading out of the cave.

  Yes, it was definitely alarm Diego heard in Cutbirth’s voice.

  Henry and Yong stood at the entrance to the tunnel. They were moving about restlessly and seemed ready to resume the hike.

  “Don’t you see the importance of this, Diego?” Adriana continued, glancing over her shoulder at her husband, her gaze self-assured. “Columbia Mammoths became extinct in North America more than 10,000 years ago. That makes this pictograph at least that old.” She looked at the large eight-foot by eight-foot pictograph. “This could be the most important archaeological find in North America. Ever! I would give anything to supervise a dig in this cave.” She looked at Diego again, the faltering look in her eyes confirming what they both knew: That would never happen. Drawing a breath she said, “Will you make me a promise, Diego?”

  “You know I will.”

  “Promise to contact Dr. Stewart Hill at the university. You met him last year at the department Christmas party. Tell him about these wonderful picto—”

  Everyone flinched as a distant BOOM! rumbled through the chamber. It was followed seconds later by another far-away but thundering BOOM! The echoes seemed to go on forever.

  “What…?” Yong muttered, twisting his head.

  Diego recognized the sound. “Those were shotgun blasts, Cutbirth!” he cried. “Most likely Uno’s Big Bertha! Please tell me why the bounty hunters are firing their weapons inside this cave! Tell me why they are even in this cave!”

  “They’re right behind us,” Sissy said, her voice cracking. She eyed the wide tube that funneled into the big pictograph cavern, then took Emily by the hand and strode quickly toward Yong and Henry. Their faces bleak, the two men had moved a few yards into the tunnel leading out of the artistic chamber.

  “Cutbirth, you said they didn’t have the gear,” Henry argued. “Didn’t have the gear. Those were your exact words.”

  Sissy was chewing on a fingertip. Emily’s arms were wrapped around Sissy’s waist.

  “Nor the clothing,” Yong said. “You said they wouldn’t pursue us into this cave because they didn’t have warm clothing. I am beginning to think you don’t know what the bloody hell you’re talking about, Cutbirth. And I heard the thunder and saw the lightning like everyone else. You said caves flood and you also said that you had heard a weather forecast and there was no rain—”

  “I can only speculate!” Cutbirth interrupted said in a loud and harsh voice. “Let’s talk as we walk!” He turned and exited the large chamber. Everyone followed. They began speed-walking.

  Diego and Adriana were the last out of the pictograph room. With a backpack hanging from either shoulder, Diego held firmly to Adriana’s hand. They hurried past Yong, who had paused to tighten the laces of his hiking boots.

  “So speculate,” Diego said, the anger coming through in his voice. “You’re holding out on us. I heard it in your tone earlier. You’re not telling all that you know. And I’d suggest you keep it brief.” Scattered fragments of ceiling rock littered the slick tunnel floor, and everyone shone their headlamps onto the floor to avoid tripping or stumbling over the chunks of limestone.Talking over his shoulder, Cutbirth said, “Those shotgun blasts confirm that Uno and Mr. Mustache got past the pot grower, and then followed us up the mountain and into the cave. Our trail would not have been that difficult to follow. The forest floor must have resembled a cattle drive after our passing.”

  “Why would they enter the cave?” Diego asked. “They don’t have the gear or the clothing.”

  There was a long pause before Cutbirth said, “I fear they do.”

  “Louder!” Henry called out, even though he was only a step or two behind Cutbirth.

  “I fear they do!” Cutbirth had shouted the words.

  “Do you know something we don’t?” Yong asked from the back.

  “I knew you were holding out, Cutbirth,” Diego said.

  The tunnel began to rise at a slight angle.

  Cutbirth said, “I think the bounty hunters saw the ruts in the mud—the ruts left when we drug our canoes up and onto the riverbank. No way to disguise muddy ruts. What I’m saying is that I think they found our campsite.”

  “Big deal,” Yong said. “They found our campsite.”

  “We suspected they had,” Diego said.

  Cutbirth said, “Then they found Rosie.”

  “You mean they found her body,” Diego said. “Isn’t that what you meant to say?”

  Cutbirth nodded grimly. “Yes, her body.”

  Someone uttered a loud gasp. Diego thought it was Emily. She and Sissy were a few steps ahead of Diego and his wife.

  “You lied to us, Mr. Cutbirth!” Adriana cried. “You said you tied her to a tree!”

  “I did tie her to a tree, and then I did…I did what I did,” Cutbirth said, the tone of his voice softening. “I had no other choice.”

  Henry said, “Speak up, man! I can’t hear you!”

  In a loud voice, Cutbirth said, “I had no other choice!”

  “Oh, dear God.” Adriana’s whisper was lost to the tuneless sound of seven pairs of hiking boots slapping the cave floor.

  “Not only did they find Rosie, but they also found Rosie’s backpack,” Cutbirth continued. “I wasn’t thinking. I simply threw her backpack into the weeds. They must have found it. I should have taken time to dispose of it properly.”

  “Your success with earlier crossings has tainted your judgment,” Diego said. “You’re getting sloppy.”

  “So they have warm clothes, a waterproof flashlight, a headlamp, and food?” Yong said. “Is that what you’re saying?”

  “That’s what I’m saying,” Cutbirth said. “They took those items knowing full well they might need them later.”

  “And they have firearms,” Henry said.

  “Why did Uno fire Big Bertha?” Diego asked. “And I assume it was Uno and her shotgun we heard.”

  Cutbirth said, “If I was to venture a guess, I’d say they found the cave entrance and then sprayed the Hotel Lobby from above. Probably wanted to make sure no one was waiting to ambush them.”

  “Could we be wrong about this?” Diego asked. Maybe it wasn’t Uno or Big Bertha. Maybe it was someone else.

  “Doubtful,” Cutbirth said.

  Everyone digested the bad news in silence.

  “Now let’s move!” Cutbirth shouted, picking up the pace.

  The pessimistic voices inside Diego’s head—the ones that had gracefully made their exit earlier in the day—had returned.

  When Cutbirth’s strides lengthened into a jog, Henry’s strides shortened. “Slow down, Cutbirth!” Henry gasped. “I need to rest!” Weaving unsteadily, he had dropped back to last place. His breathing labored, he stepped over to the tunnel wall and leaned his weight against it. “Got to rest,” he moaned, coughing and then gasping for breath.