Down the Throat of the Mountain

by Jennifer Erickson

His eyes danced for a moment. "I'm kidding. But he is my father."

  "Yeah, right…oh, shit, you’re serious, aren’t you? Look, I always say the wrong thing, okay? It’s nothing personal. I’m sorry. Ugh."

  The next day when Janie showed up for work, Pete gestured her over.

  "If they offer to promote you, don't take it."

  "Did Mr. Essing say something?"

  Pete's face closed. Shit, she'd said the wrong thing again.

  "What now?" She was sick of this. "What'd I say?"

  He gathered his thoughts for a moment, looked her over, reached out with nicotine-stained fingers and pinched the arm of her jacket to keep her in place. "You’ve seen Jeff, right? Our Oracle? You want to end up like that?”

  "Okay," she said, just so he'd let go.

  "Maybe you've heard rumors of kids who've snuck in the back way."

  "No, I haven't."

  "Good. If you hear anything, I suggest you ignore it."

  Later that day, Janie slumped back in her desk chair and scrubbed her forehead. Her eyes ached from staring at the computer screen. She stood up, stretched, wandered down the hall to the bathroom and filled up her coffee mug with tap water, then wandered back and peeked into Roxy's cubicle.

  "Do you understand our job?" Janie asked.

  "Yeah. Of course."

  "No. I mean...why are we doing it?"

  Roxy's was stern. "It's important."

  "Really? I mean...sometimes I wonder whether I'm really accomplishing anything. It seems so...arbitrary."

  "Lots of people feel that way about their work," said Roxy.

  Janie tried to remember if she'd ever felt that way working for George. That was different, though, because she'd thought she was in love.

  Roxy continued, "You need to put it into perspective. In a factory, every person along the assembly line has only one small task to perform: put in a screw, attach a fender. But at the end of the day, a car comes out. And what about bureaucracy? You just date stamp your pieces of paper and send them to someone else. Even surgeons, a lot of them, do the same surgeries every day all day, fixing knees or whatever. And they know the people are just going to go out and drink beer and play softball and blow out their knees again."

  "So you're bored too?" Janie asked.

  Roxy reached up and fluffed her hair off of her neck, leaned back over her computer screen. But Janie didn't feel like being dismissed.

  "Did you know there's another entrance to the cave?"

  "That's just a rumor," said Roxy.

  Somehow, they ended up at the Silver Dollar Casino across the street, drinking $2.50 happy hour margaritas in glasses the size of fishbowls with rock salt crusted around the lip. The bartender didn't ask for ID, probably because of Roxy. Janie decided she'd rather have a drink than food, even though the hot wings were really cheap. That was a bad decision, but only in retrospect. At the time, she thought she was being fiscally responsible. Then, she polished off every last drop of her margarita, because to not finish would be like throwing money away. Plus, it tasted so good.

  They sat at the bar, and men turned to ogle Roxy, and Janie imagined that maybe they were looking at her, too. Something welled up in her. An excitement about life that she'd only ever felt with George. And a kind of twisted pride mixed with a yearning for the confessional made her tell Roxy the whole sordid story. She didn't want Roxy to think she was boring. She was dangerous. She was desirable. She could steal women's husbands, for a while, if she wanted to.

  "So Leslie's office is just down the hall from reception, where I work, but she emails me one day and asks me to meet her for lunch. Since I'd started working there, I'd kind of become friends with her and George, so that wasn't so strange, but I just got this sense that something was off."

  They had met at Grounds Coffee Company. Janie got there first, took her chair and cinnamon roll to a low sofa in the back, leaned over the coffee table to dismantle her roll and wash down chunks of sweet gooeyness with tiny sips of scalding tea.

  When Leslie walked in, Janie knew this was more than just a friendly lunch. As usual, Leslie's hair was caught up in a practical ponytail, the waist band of her skirt bit into her belly, and she looked tired. But she looked formidable as well. Janie scrubbed absently at that spot on her right temple. The spot that always knew.

  Leslie turned one way, then the other. Janie caught her eye and raised her arm a fraction to greet her, then crossed it over her knee and fondled the shredded tail of her cinnamon roll.

  Leslie didn't stop at the counter. She bore down on Janie, took a low leather chair across from her.

  Janie scooted forward and tugged at the knees of her slacks to try to make her thighs look smaller.

  "George and I had a talk," said Leslie.

  Janie swallowed.

  "He seems to think you're just friends. He says he hasn't slept with you."

  "No, we're just...friends," Janie echoed. It sounded so lame. Of course they were more than friends. Janie understood him in ways that Leslie never could. But they hadn't done anything wrong. Not really.

  "Do you know that he tells me all the things you say about me? I know, for instance, that you think that I'm not bad looking, but I don't take care of myself. You think he's the most amazing man in the world, and that I don't appreciate him. Thank you for that."

  Eeesh.

  "And you're not the first little 'friend' he's had since we've been married. Two years ago, it was Amanda. In 2005, it was Bethany.

  "We have children. We have a business. My husband understands the importance of these things, so you're not going to be 'friends' any more. No more jogs. No more lunches. No more texting."

  "That's not your decision to make." Janie's voice quavered.

  "Actually, it is. And he asked me to explain it to you. He thought you might be hurt, isn't that sweet? He thought you might not understand. I know that you understand perfectly." Leslie stared her down. Janie's face prickled.

  Leslie stood. "George forgot to consult with me before he offered you the promotion. Frankly, he doesn't need a full-time assistant, so your position is being eliminated. I'll be back at the office at two. That should give you plenty of time to collect your things."

  Leslie's smile pinioned Janie in place.

  As she left, a gust of wind blew through the door and sent napkins fluttering to the floor.

  All Janie could think was: there had been others? That was impossible. What she and George had was special. Leslie had to have made it up.

  Roxy said: "He sounds like a pussy."

  Janie clamped her mouth shut. Suddenly, her story seemed so pathetic. If George was a pussy, what did that make her?

  "This is your big love affair? A guy you never even slept with? And how old is he anyway?"

  "But we have this connection--"

  "Maybe you're connected, but I don't think he is."

  "I'm going to the bathroom." Janie's eyes stung. She got unsteadily to her feet, knowing she couldn't say anything else without crying, and then she'd look even more pathetic. But unfortunately, the world seemed a little off-kilter. Shit, she was drunk.

  Later, after Janie composed herself in the enormous restroom, then got lost on the way back, Roxy confessed that her boyfriend was a rock climbing bum who lived in his car. Janie giggled. Roxy got miffed. Janie ate her lime wedge. They each threw a five on the counter, and when the bartender didn't collect the money right away, Roxy stood to leave. Janie decided she'd look cheap if she made Roxy wait around for change, but still, five dollars was an awfully big tip for two drinks...

  As Roxy started toward the door, Janie snatched up Roxy's unfinished margarita and gulped it down. It would be a shame for it to go to waste.

  Chapter 16

  "Charlie says he can get us in the back way," Roxy said the next day. "And it turns out I even have a map. Remember that stuff you found in your desk drawer?"

  "Who's Charlie?"

  "My boyfriend. Remember? We talked about this at The
Silver Dollar last night."

  "We did?" Janie vaguely remembered mentioning that she thought it would be cool to break into Long Shot, Inc. through the secret entrance and sneak down to check out the caverns, but that was just the tequila talking. She didn't realize it had become a plan.

  She also vaguely remembered reeling back into The Silver Dollar once she realized she couldn't drive, slumping at the bar and drinking a series of Orange Fantas. Had she even paid for those?

  The drive home down the canyon was the scariest thing she'd ever done, leaning over the wheel, squinting at the yellow line, cars swerving impatiently around her. If there were anything left in her stomach, she'd throw up just thinking about it. The self-loathing was extra strong today.

  "...Saturday."

  "Huh?"

  "Are you in?"

  Roxy mistook Janie's look of horror for, maybe a grin of delight, because she said: "We'll meet you at the pullout."

  There was a difference between wanting to do something (like breaking and entering) in theory, and really wanting to do it. It was like the difference between looking forward to doing something and looking forward to having the memory of having done something. Janie had thought everybody knew that. Apparently not.

  Janie couldn't figure a way to get out of it without looking boring or...well, basically she was boring. But she was trying out this new thing of being adventurous and cool. So there she was at the pull-out on Saturday morning.

  Charlie's car was a rusted old Toyota Tercel wagon, gold with tan plaid upholstery. The passenger seat was heaped with wadded-up clothes and fast-food packaging. There was a toothbrush on the dashboard. The back was full of packs and ropes, and piles of shiny aluminum gear. Looking through the hatch while Charlie rummaged for a clean shirt, Janie wondered where he slept. Probably Roxy's place. He was gorgeous, dread-locked and muscular. He didn't need a home. Any girl would take him in.

  Roxy's bouncing curls disappeared behind a clump of stunted spruces and Janie followed, crunching over desiccated grass and scarlet patches of kinnikinick. Charlie brought up the rear. Janie couldn't figure out what was taking him so long. Janie was pretty out of shape and a little anemic from her new ascetic lifestyle, but he was way back there, strolling along, hands in his pockets.

  Twenty minutes brought Janie to where Roxy crouched on a lichen-covered granite boulder. The town of Long Shot rested below them in the valley. Barren ridges stretched into the distance. An icy wind battled with the warmth of the sunshine.

  "How much farther?" asked Janie.

  Eyes sparkling, Roxy pointed at some rocks. When Janie went over to look, she saw a steel grate in their midst.

  Janie mimed enthusiasm. It wasn't as hard as it would have been a couple of days before. Roxy's energy was contagious when it wasn't annoying.

  Their headlamps were already on their heads when Charlie drew near, paused, and said, "You're sure you want to do this?"

  Roxy's breath came out a growl, and she glared at him. Janie got the idea they'd already had this conversation.

  "You could've just told me how to open it. I didn't ask you to come along."

  He strode up, stalled.

  "Now what?" Roxy snapped.

  "Did you move these rocks?"

  Janie gave Roxy a questioning look and Roxy shrugged. "Just open it."

  Charlie kneeled and stuck his arm through the bars. He felt around for a minute, grimacing, grunted. A section of the bars dropped open with a screech. He stood, motioned with both hands like a magician's assistant, and said, "Have fun!" Then he jogged off down the path.

  "I thought he was coming," said Janie. It suddenly seemed scarier without, well, a muscular man along.

  Roxy had already clambered inside.

  "Forget about him." Her voice was muffled. "He's afraid. Man, I wish I had a better headlamp."

  Janie lowered herself through the gap in the bars and Roxy guided Janie's hands and feet to pockets chipped into the limestone. After Roxy coaxed Janie down, she clambered up and swung the gate shut behind them. Janie switched on her headlamp, which cast a weak circle of light onto the glittering stone walls.

  "Wow! Is that mica?" Janie asked.

  "Dunno," said Roxy. She adjusted her headlamp, then peered into a narrow tunnel which vanished into blackness almost immediately.

  Janie had last used her headlamp on a school trip to Moab, two springs before. Since then, it had been buried at the bottom of a cardboard box in the garage. She wished she'd bothered to check the batteries.

  As she straightened, she whacked her head on the ceiling. Roxy laughed, then turned and cracked her own head. After that, she didn't think it was so funny any more.

  They hunched and lurched forward together, stumbling on softball-sized rocks. Janie kept one hand on the wall to guide her as her eyes adjusted to the darkness.

  Air currents swirled around them, warm then cold.

  Janie had a wish list already: ski jacket, helmet, big man, electricity, a ride home. For this to be over. A hamburger. This month's mortgage payment. "Ow!" She'd turned her ankle. Hiking boots.

  "Are you sure you know where you're going?" asked Janie.

  "I told you I looked at a map."

  The circle of light from Janie's headlamp seemed to be getting yellower and yellower. Roxy, who was a step ahead, didn't even cast a shadow any more. There was just a bulls eye of yellow on the back of her wind-breaker.

  Janie tried to peer around Roxy, but she couldn't see much, so she put her head down and concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Each step seemed about the same. It was like walking a rocky treadmill. Even time stood still. She realized that the passage of time required change, otherwise there was nothing to tell you it was a moment later, or an hour later. The next day she would think that maybe she had it wrong. Maybe time had always been an illusion.

  Lost in her own world, Janie tripped and fell to her hands and knees. When she shone her headlamp on her stinging palms, she realized the glow had faded out completely. She prodded her palms with her fingers. They felt rough, but Janie couldn't tell whether they were bleeding.

  As she started to stand, she realized that Roxy had continued on without her.

  "Roxy," she said, and her voice was loud and urgent in her ears.

  Just then, she heard a faint yelp.

  "Roxy?" she roared, then breathed deeply to keep from panicking. She thought she heard a mumbled reply, but it may have been her imagination.

  Janie crept forward, hunched low so that she wouldn't hit her head. One hand trailed along the rock wall to her left, one hand groped forward, fingers spread.

  "Roxy?" she said. "Roxy?"

  Sparkles danced in front of her eyes. Maybe her eyes were just bored.

  She felt a little warning flash in her temple and she flinched backward, but when she waved her arms around her head, nothing was there.

  "Roxy!"

  Holding her breath, she stopped and cocked her ear forward. Yes. There was an echo of movement up ahead.

  "I'm okay," Roxy's voiced drifted toward her. Then Janie saw a glow of light.

  "There's a big hole here," said Roxy.

  Janie shuffled forward one more step, and a blast of cold air blew up into her face. She dropped to her knees, inched forward until her right hand came down in open air. The light from Roxy's headlamp blinded her. Closing her eyes, she said, "Could you point that thing someplace else?"

  "Sorry." The glow swung around, illuminating a scene that made Janie's stomach drop. Roxy crouched on a sloping rock shelf about six feet below. Beyond her, a sheer-walled shaft breathed sweet, frigid air.

  Roxy stirred and a stone rolled off the edge, disappeared into the darkness. A second later Janie heard a ploink.

  The silence stretched. Nothing Janie could think to say was very encouraging. Janie was scared to death, and she was on solid ground. Roxy's position was much more tenuous. One wrong move and she could tumble into the abyss.

  "It could be w
orse," Janie said at last.

  The glow swung back up into her face, and all she could see of Roxy was a bright star of light. Janie blinked and fended off the glare with the palm of her hand.

  A noise like a sob came from the hole, then crescendoed into a hearty belly laugh. Eventually, the laughing died down.

  "Janie?"

  "Uh-huh?"

  "I'm going to need a hand up."

  Janie peeked over the edge and saw Roxy balanced on a pile of rubble. Her fingers spread just to the lip and waved at Janie.

  Oh, God. She had to help Roxy, right? Was there any way she could refuse? Carefully she lowered herself to her stomach, stuck a hand out. With one hand, Roxy gripped Janie by the forearm. With the other, Roxy grabbed Janie by the collar. Janie's hoodie rode up over her head. She put her head down, thought heavy thoughts and whimpered as Roxy's weight dragged her toward the shaft. Then Roxy's knee ground Janie's elbow into the floor and Roxy sprawled on top of her. Janie could feel Roxy's stomach convulse with laughter.

  "Maybe we should look at the map," Janie suggested.

  Roxy rolled off of her and stood.

  "Oh, we don't need that. I've got it memorized. It's just that other passage didn't feel right."

  It all felt wrong to Janie, and she hadn't even noticed any other passage.

  "Why don't we just call it a day?" Janie asked. "We can come back another time." That was a lie. She was never coming back.

  "No way! This is cool, Janie!"

  "You almost just died."

  "But I didn't!" Roxy crowed.

  Since Roxy had the only working headlamp, Janie was going wherever Roxy went.

  Roxy doubled back. Janie grabbed hold of the tail of Roxy's windbreaker before she was left behind. Roxy ignored Janie's pleas and squeezed sideways into an even narrower tunnel. Janie could sense Roxy trembling but Janie didn't think it was from fear. Roxy was jazzed.

  Breathe in...breathe out. They trod down, down. Roxy's voice startled Janie out of her meditation.

  "Don't you feel so...alive?"

  No. She might actually throw up if she spoke, though.

  She felt the walls closing in. She wanted to flee, but was afraid to leave Roxy's side.

  "Cool!" Roxy picked up speed and Janie struggled to hang on behind her. Oh, God. Janie was starting to realize that Roxy's idea of cool was different from hers. Janie's idea of cool was paying the mortgage and having ice cream in the freezer. Sleeping with Lacey nestled into her hip. An easy jog with no hills.