by Sarah Ready
I look at the ceiling. Technically, I’m Fred Junior, but my friends and family have called me by my middle name since I was born. So, I’m Sam to my friends and Frederick to everyone else.
“Besides, Frederick is the persona you built to work through Louisa and Garrett stealing your company and breaking your heart. It’s not you.”
“Thank you, Shrink Evie.”
“You realize I do have a master’s degree in psychology.”
“You realize therapists are more screwed up than their clients? And that they became shrinks so they can project their issues onto others and work out their problems vicariously through their clients.”
She waves my statement away. “Anyway. I solved your problem.”
I push aside the now empty container of linguini and lean back in my chair.
“How’s that?” I ask. Evie always has a scheme or solution for other people’s problems. She’s a fixer and a meddler.
“I bought you a mansion.”
“What?” I sit up.
“With your money, of course. Remember that account you gave me access to and told me I could do what I wanted with it? I did. I bought you a mansion.”
“What are you talking about?”
“It’s perfect.” She sits up straight and grins. And not for the last time, I remember that her solutions rarely work out. She continues and I watch as her excitement grows. “It’s an old stone mansion outside this adorable little town a couple of hours upstate. It’s called Romeo, and it’s the official town of love or something like that, and they have festivals, and a cute main street with flowers and a little footbridge over a river and stone sidewalks and a bakery and a bookshop and here’s the best part…it’s like in its own dimension or something. People there are really friendly, they all wave to each other and chat even with strangers, and they all believe in true love and soul mates and crap like that. But I don’t think any of them keep up with the media, or the news, or the entertainment industry. It’s another universe, I swear. You could go there and just be yourself. Just be you.” She stops and looks at me and I realize really how worried she’s been for me. “You could be you again.”
There’s a dull pain in my chest.
“Evie…”
“Don’t say no. You’ve been wanting to start another business. Use this place as your springboard. Five years is too long. I think that birth announcement was a good thing. It’s the kick in the pants you need to move on. Mom and Dad agree.”
“You called them?” I ask.
She shrugs, but she looks embarrassed. She brought out the big guns. Mom and Dad are on a year-long African safari, living out their retirement dreams. Evie must’ve been really worried about me to talk to our parents about this.
“They want you to be happy,” she says.
“I’m thirty-three years old, Evie. I don’t need you to fix my life.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
I look down at the kitchen table. Next to my hand is a black scorch mark. It’s a burn from when I was an eleven-year-old kid soldering some of my first electronics. A lump grows in my throat. I still remember the secure feeling of sitting at the kitchen table, tinkering with computer parts while my mom made meatloaf and mashed potatoes for dinner.
“I guess I do need to get away,” I say.
Evie lets out a cheer. Then she jumps up and gives me a hug.
“Idiot,” I say, and the word is full of love for my meddling sister.
“Well, that’ll teach you to give me access to a million-dollar bank account.”
Or not. I have too much money as it is. After I lost BioTech, I sold my other business, a domain registration company, for eight hundred million dollars. With smart investments, the amount has only grown.
“You really don’t like my public persona?” I ask.
“I hate it. I know you wanted kids with Louisa.”
I send her a sharp look. We don’t talk about that. I told her years ago in a moment of weakness.
She continues, “But you’ll never have that if you keep playing the jerk-off playboy. No decent woman will look at you twice.”
I think about the five years of trying to protect myself from hurt and trying to prove Louisa wrong. I basically proved her right. I only dated women that cared about status and money. And I made myself into a spectacle.
“You’re right.” I come to a decision. I’ll go to Evie’s town, check out the house she bought, and I’ll get myself back on track. She’s right, it’s time I started working again.
I’m not interested in opening myself up or letting another woman hurt me, but I can stop playing the dissipated billionaire.
I can do that.
But as for a woman. No. I’m not going to open myself up for a world of hurt. Not ever again.
Not even if the woman was blind and had never heard of Frederick Knight.
3
VERONICA
There’s a man ahead on the trail. I scowl at his back. Every so often I catch sight of him. He’s a couple hundred yards up, and when the curves of the trail straighten into a long stretch I watch him. He doesn’t know I’m behind him. Why would he? He moves like an elephant. He breaks dry twigs, crashes through leaf piles, and makes more noise than a three-year-old in a candy factory. Clearly he’s not an outdoorsman. I snort as he trips over a root and catches himself just in time.
It’s barely seven in the morning. The crisp woodsy air and the golden morning light fill me with happiness. I take a breath and the sharp pine smell tickles my nose. Everything is perfect, at least it would be if the quiet weren’t disturbed by the guy up ahead. He steps on another twig and the loud crack reverberating through the woods sends a jay squawking into the sky.
I expect he’ll turn around soon. We’re three miles from the trailhead, but it doesn’t look like he has any gear with him. He’s in shorts, a T-shirt, hat, and tennis shoes. But he doesn’t have a pack or water that I can see. Not even the greenest day hiker would go much farther without any water. It’s supposed to get hot today. I roll my shoulders and smile at the comforting weight of my frame pack. Chloe always teases me about my prepper tendencies and my obsession for all things survivalist. I’m not going to deny it, I love getting out on the trail, or into the backwoods and losing myself in the wild for a week or two.
I started in my teens. It was a rough time in my life. My mom and dad fought constantly, I felt so lost. Hiking, climbing, camping, those things saved my life. Now, even though I don’t need them anymore to help me survive, they still make me feel strong and safe.
The man on the trail ahead turns to the west and starts into the woods. I look to the sky and shake my head. What the heck is he doing? He jumps over a large fallen tree trunk covered in moss and moves into the thick vegetation of the woods. This is survival no-no number one. Every year inexperienced hikers leave a trail and become lost in the woods. Some even die, sometimes only a hundred meters from the trail, because they’ve gotten turned around and they can’t find their way back and they don’t know how to survive off the land.
I pick up my pace and come to the place where the man left the trail. I can see him picking his way through the brush. He looks like he’s just enjoying the day, meandering, and…oh no.
I curse as he steps into the mouth of a cave. There are plenty of caves in Upstate, dozens of them in the forests around Romeo. I steer clear of them.
“I’m not going after him,” I say out loud.
There’s a chattering of birds in the distance. I swat a mosquito that thinks it’s a nice time to bite. I glare at the entrance to the cave. It’s about five feet high and three feet wide. Ivy covers most of the opening. It’s barely noticeable from the trail. If I remember right, this cave was discovered by school kids about one hundred and fifty years ago. This one hasn’t been explored too much. To be honest, caves really aren’t my thing. I tap my foot, expecting the man to come out of the cave any second.
But he doesn’t.
I smack another mosquito. The
forest is quiet. Now that the hiker isn’t crashing through the trail making noise, the animals have started to come out again. I hear the steps of a careful deer, the chiding kuk-kuk-kuk of a squirrel, the liquid notes of a jay. The sounds paint the forest green and gold and beautiful.
But he still hasn’t come out.
I roll my shoulders and the weight of my pack shifts. Inside my pack I have two weeks of provisions, a water filter and bottle, my canister stove and cook kit, a hatchet and multitool, my tent, sleeping bag, compass, maps, my first-aid bag, extra socks, needle and thread, light, duct tape, a whistle and mirror, there’s more…needless to say, I’m well prepared for two weeks on my own in the woods. This is a light trip for me, I’ve gone six months on my own for a thru-hike.
I give him another minute, but still no movement. The guy might not realize it, but caves can be dangerous. They aren’t something you should go and poke around in on your own.
But maybe he’s actually really experienced? Maybe he’s a caver, or a speleologist and he’ll be annoyed that I’m coming after him.
Or maybe he’s a criminal and he’s going to check on the money from his last bank heist, or he’s got his victims stored in the cave or…
Ugh.
A mosquito buzzes at my ear and I smack it.
I can’t just walk away. I’ll always wonder if the noisy hiker with no gear made it out okay. And if he doesn’t…I’ll blame myself.
“I’m going to have to go after him,” I say.
I let out a sigh and then step off the trail.
Sure, he could be a creepy insane wackadoo, but he could also be a normal guy, probably from the city, who doesn’t know the end of a stick from his…ahem.
My pack slaps against my back as I scramble over downed trees, a dry creek bed and thick foliage on my way to the cave. The smell of damp, limestone-scented air hits me as I come to the entrance and push away the vines.
“Hello?” I call.
My voice echoes, “lo, lo, lo.”
I shiver. The cool damp air, probably about fifty degrees, fans over me. Shafts of light shift through the vines and dimly illuminate the interior. The cave mouth opens into a rounded chamber of rough limestone that narrows into a downward sloping passage.
I take out my flashlight and shine it onto the pale dirt. I can see footprints in the dirt leading to the passage.
I let out a long sigh and step into the cave. I won’t go far. I’ve never explored a cave before. The darkness, their unknown nature, they give me the creeps. Sort of like when you’re a kid at night and you’re terrified of what might be under the bed or in the closet, that’s what a cave feels like to me. They are nothing like the wide open freedom of a forest.
I shine my light toward the passage and step in the narrow confines. I press my hand against the rock wall. It’s damp and cold. I let out a shaky exhale.
“Hello?” I call again.
No answer.
After about fifty feet of a slow descent I decide it’s time to turn around. The darkness is heavier and the air is closed and stagnant. The only noise is the slow drip of water leaking from the ceiling building the mounded stalagmites rising from the ground and pulling down the stalactites dropping from the ceiling like sharks’ teeth. I duck under another stalactite and see that I’ve come upon another chamber. The passage opens and I shine my light over glittering crystalline structures.
“Wow,” I breathe.
The room sparkles in the beam of my flashlight and I’m mesmerized by the otherworldly beauty. The cavern is made of milky white stone twisted around like pulled taffy and tall spires that shine like diamonds rising to a ceiling of glittering, winking stars. No, not stars, crystals.
“Hello?” I call.
My voice echoes, again and again, until a symphony of hellos returns to me. I feel as if I’m in a cathedral, an underground cathedral, more beautiful than anything I’ve ever seen.
With my head tilted up and my eyes traveling up the spires to the glittering ceiling I step into the chamber. I step forward, once, twice, and again. Then my foot lands…on nothing. There’s no ground in front of me.
My arms pinwheel. My heavy pack throws me off balance.
I cry out and fling my arms, trying to grab something, anything. My flashlight flies from my hands and drops into the pit. I plunge forward. As I do, I close my eyes. Certain that I’m about to die.
Then, there’s a jerk and my arms yank back. My body twists and hits the slick wall of the crevice. My pack, the metal frame caught on something, a stalagmite, I think. I hang by my arms, suspended over black, open air. I kick my feet, claw at the wet rocky wall. If I can just get a handhold, a foothold, anything. Suddenly, there’s a cracking noise, another jerk, I’m thrust forward and my arms wrench free from my pack.
I scream. There’s nothing but black, open air beneath me.
As I start to fall, the second when I’m certain this is the end, someone grabs my arm.
I slam back against the wall. I’m hanging over the edge, and a stranger’s grip is the only thing keeping me from plunging into the darkness. My heart punches painfully against my chest.
“Hold on.” It’s a man. His voice is deep and strained.
His grip is tight and painful and I’m so thankful for the burn of his bruising grasp.
“Help,” I gasp. I look down. I can’t see the bottom, it’s a dark pit.
“Got you,” he says.
Then he starts to pull me back up and I think, my word, it’s the hiker and he’s strong and he has me and he’s going to save my life.
Then, the thought cuts short, because there’s a strange groaning noise coming from the rock beneath me, a rumble. And then the edge of the wall breaks away, the man slides forward, pitches over me into open air and then we’re both falling.
I grip his hand. We roll in the air and our limbs tangle together. Then a second later, a minute later, my mind can’t tell, we hit bottom. My head slams against rock. There’s blinding pain and a flash of light and a loud whooshing noise cracks through my skull. I try to fight past the pain and the lights sweeping in my eyes, but I can’t.
My fingers loosen, feel like jelly, I drop the man’s hand. For some reason everything feels wet and cold and like I’m floating. In fact, I think I am. I’m floating. And the man’s next to me but I can’t see him, it’s too dark. I can only feel him.
“Are you okay?” I ask him. My voice sounds slurred and far away. He doesn’t answer. I really hope he’s okay. Then I lose the thought and sink into blackness.
4
SAM
I kick my legs, fighting to pull the woman to the surface. I have a hold of her beneath her arms. She’s a dead weight and I pray that she’s okay, that she didn’t get hurt in the fall. The icy water urges me to kick harder. There’s no light. I can’t tell up from down. I’m going on pure instinct, and a prayer, please God, let me be swimming toward air.
I kick harder. My heart pounds in my ears and my lungs ache. Maybe I chose the wrong direction. Up was down, or down was up and I’m swimming to the bottom of the water. I start to panic. Then, just when I’m about to turn around, reverse direction, we break the surface. I gasp, drag in a harsh breath then cough and sputter. I draw the woman’s head higher. Float on my back and hold her against my chest. She coughs and sputters.
Then, “Are you okay?” she asks. Her voice is ragged and soft.
Before I can answer, her head falls again to my chest and her body goes limp.
My blood goes cold.
“I’m okay. Are you alright?”
She doesn’t answer, she lies heavy and still against me. I kick my legs to keep us at the surface and feel for her pulse. I let out a sigh of relief, it’s strong and steady. At least there’s that. She shivers and I’m reminded of how cold the water is. Like an ice bath. We’re going to get hypothermia if I don’t get us out of it soon.
But I can’t see. There’s no light. I dropped my phone when I went to grab her. I saw her flashli
ght fly from her grasp. Then I remember my watch. It’s a waterproof divers watch, a twenty-thousand-dollar piece that Evie bought me last year for my birthday. She laughed because she said she’d spent my money to get it. I’ve worn it ever since. Thank the Lord. I press a button on the side and the display glows. It gives a dim light that barely illuminates the space around my hand. I hold up my arm and twist the watch in the air. The light catches on the white stone and reflects around the cavern. The water that was black in the pitch dark is turquoise and clear where the light hits. There. About twenty feet away I can just make out what looks like water hitting rock. I can’t be sure. The light is too dim. But I swim that way because right now it’s our best chance.
I’m breathing hard and shivering harder by the time I reach the rock wall.
“We made it,” I tell the woman. I lift her onto the rock first, roll her onto the surface and then I climb out after her. Water sluices onto the rock and runs around us. It’s cold. It’s too cold. I feel for the woman’s pulse. It’s still strong, but her skin is like ice and she’s shaking.
“You’ll be okay,” I say. I keep talking, because it’s so dark and quiet in here that any voice, even my own, is better than the silence. “I’ve never been so scared as when I saw you fall,” I tell her. I keep my voice low and soothing. I don’t know how we’re going to get out of here. Or even if there is a way out. My phone is gone, hers is likely in her pack which is still up on the stalagmite at the top of the crevice. To be sure I pat her pockets. Carefully. I don’t want her waking up thinking I’m some creep taking advantage. Nothing. They’re empty. Not that a phone could get reception down in the depths of a cave.
“We’ll get out of here,” I tell her. I put my hand on her arm. Dang, she’s cold. “I’ll get you out of here. I promise.”
I hear a scratching noise and then a rhythmic crunch, crunch, scratch. The hair on the back of my neck stands up. There’s something else here with us.
I hit the display of my watch and look around. Nothing. I can’t see anything. I hold it over the woman. I can barely make out the shape of her face.