by P. J. Hoover
I shake my head. “There’s too many. You said we’ve walked close to two thousand steps so far, and I’m not seeing an end in sight.” I kind of inadvertently groan after I say it because my legs hurt so badly.
“You’re not ready to stop for the day, are you?” Ethan says.
My legs scream at me to say yes, that we stop here for the night. But that won’t help me find my parents. According to my watch, it’s only two in the afternoon.
I pull myself to my feet, trying to make it look effortless, which doesn’t go over very well because I’m grimacing.
Ethan laughs.
“Yeah, I know,” I say. “But we have to keep going.”
And so we do. We manage another hour. And then another. And then there is some mutual, unspoken agreement that passes between us because we both sink to the ground at the next platform, and neither of us suggests getting up again that day.
I turn on the signal booster, but the signal comes up blank. Inside this secret tunnel, there is no hope of us getting a message out. Which means that if we need help from either Lucas or Uncle Randall, we are out of luck. We are now totally on our own.
CHAPTER 24
WE DESCEND THE STAIRS FOR TWO MORE DAYS. OUR PACE HAS SLOWED, and though Ethan is still muttering numbers under his breath like he’s keeping track, my mind is too numb to even think about it. I have no clue how deep in the earth we are, but it’s way more than the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State Building.
“You know what just occurred to me?” Ethan says.
“What?” I ask.
“When we’re done, once we find the Code of Enoch, we have to climb back up these.”
I stop walking and fix him with my look of death. “Never mention that again. Because if you do, I will kill you right here.”
“Whoa, anger issues,” Ethan says.
“My legs hurt too bad to be angry,” I say.
“Just don’t trip me, okay?”
I try to come up with a witty response, but my mind has entered a dull place where I can’t think of anything except the next step in front of me—which means that when I go to take that next step and my foot doesn’t descend at all, I fall over and land on my side.
“Hannah, are you okay?” Ethan says.
“I think I found the bottom,” I say. “Be careful. The last step is a doozy.”
It’s such a stupid thing to say, but I can’t stop myself as giddy laughter takes over. Ethan falls to the ground beside me, and we lie there laughing until tears stream down our faces. I shine the light around just to be sure, and I can’t believe it. There are no more stairs.
All the exhaustion I had from coming down the staircase vanishes. Around me is a chamber unlike any I have ever seen. The area we’re in is vast and cavernous, with stalactites and stalagmites that rival those I’ve seen in both Carlsbad Caverns and Mammoth Caves. My light shines out, falling upon seven arches carved into the walls, each with what looks like a tunnel extending beyond it. It’s like a Choose Your Own Adventure, where whichever path we pick will determine our fate. Possible gold and riches in the form of the Code of Enoch lie through one of those arches, and grisly death lies beyond the others.
“Let’s see what the map says,” I say, digging it out. With the steps, we haven’t needed it. There was only one way to go. But now there are seven.
“What does it say about this chamber?” I ask.
Ethan studies the map and then stares at the tunnels, his head slightly tilted as if he’s contemplating a problem.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“All the next symbol says is ‘Golden Archway,’ but none of these are golden.”
Nothing in the chamber is golden. Sure, it’s carved, obviously manmade, but everything is the gray color of stone.
“So it doesn’t talk about making a choice?”
He shakes his head. “No. Just ‘Golden Archway.’”
I study the symbols on the map, looking for something that he’s missed. The stairs are there, along with the horrible number for how many we descended. There’s the archway symbol he’s talking about, but nothing else.
“We should complain to the map maker,” Ethan says.
I press my fingers to my temples. There has to be something to tell us which way to go. Some kind of clue. If only I could text Lucas. He’d be able to figure it out. But he’s not here.
What would Lucas do in this situation?
I stare at the symbol on the map, waiting for something to pop out at me. But nothing does. My eyes drift to the letters that surround the Deluge Segment that tell about the artifact we’re seeking. Nothing there either. Along the edge of the map are the notches. They’re not lined up since Lucas flipped the images around and rotated them, using the golden ratio as a guide. My eyes move back to the center piece, the part Tobin filled in. But that doesn’t help either.
“Wait …,” I say. Almost out of my peripheral vision, the notches on the edges blend together. I hold my head still but let my eyes drift over to them. “These.” I run my finger over the notches.
“What about them?”
It’s there. I can’t believe I didn’t see it earlier.
“You see the pattern they’re in? There were five notches on each of the three pieces, right? That means fifteen total notches. And you see how even though they’re not lined up, most of them are near one other?”
Ethan’s eyes widen. “Oh, yeah. Except this one.” He points to the second from the right. “It has three notches.”
“Exactly,” I say. “Lucas used the golden ratio to align them. And I’m willing to bet the one with the three notches is our tunnel.”
Ethan walks over to the second tunnel from the right. He runs his hands along the sides of the tunnel, squatting down until he’s near the ground.
“What does this look like to you, Hannah?”
I walk over to join him. Ethan points to a carving near the base of the rock. I recognize it immediately.
“It’s the DNA symbol from the map,” I say. “It’s the same symbol.”
“Yeah, and look at this,” Ethan says, pointing to another carving.
Three notches have been carved into the wall. Three notches just like on the map. We check the other entryways but don’t find the same DNA symbol or the notches. This has to be the way we’re supposed to go. This is our golden archway.
We don’t die when we walk through which I take as a good sign that we’ve chosen correctly. Unlike the walls of the stairwell, the tunnel has been carved into a perfect arch, stretching before us. It’s also covered with the thermogenic moss. Along it, I find the first insect I’ve seen since we started down the steps.
“Albino bugs!” I say, reaching out for one.
“Don’t touch them,” Ethan says, yanking my hand back. “They’re huge! And they could be poisonous.”
“They’re not poisonous. At least I don’t think they are,” I say, placing my hand flat on the wall ahead of us. Slowly, one of the insects crawls onto the back of my hand. It’s ten times the size of a normal beetle from back home, covering almost the entire back of my glove. “Pretty sure it’s a Catops Cavicis, except it’s albino unlike the normal species.”
“Look at those teeth,” Ethan says. “Does it bite?”
“Probably,” I say. “Most beetles do. But only if you provoke them.”
“So don’t provoke this one,” Ethan says. “Put it back.”
“It’s fine,” I say. “What I’d really like to do is take it back with us.”
“We’re not here for our bug collections, Hannah,” Ethan says. “And anyway, it’s freaky with its giant crunchy white shell and weird little antennae. Just put it back where it came from.”
“You are such a wimp.” I move my hand back to the wall to release the beetle.
“It looks like it came from here,” Ethan says, shining his flashlight into a crack in the wall.
“Stop!” I say, but it’s too late.
Hundreds of the giant
beetles pour from the wall, dropping to the floor and scampering across our boots before we have time to jump out of the way.
I flick the beetle off my hand. The bugs keeps coming.
“I told you that you shouldn’t have messed with them,” Ethan says, stepping back.
But he’s stepping the wrong way, back in the direction we came.
“This way,” I say, grabbing for his hand. The bugs are crawling up my legs. They’re everywhere. Biting through my clothes.
Ethan jumps over the insects, crushing them under his feet, and then we run down the passageway, swiping the beetles from our legs. The bugs pour after us, coming out of new cracks along the tunnel. We reach the end of the passageway, but it’s blocked by a small river of water, about five feet across. Neither Ethan nor I hesitate as we jump across it. We land and brush the last of the bugs off our legs, flicking them into the water.
“Do they swim?” Ethan says.
I shake my head. “Only some kinds of water beetles swim which I don’t think these are.”
“You don’t think?” He shakes some more off, swatting around his ankles where his boots meet his pants.
“That’s why I wanted to take one back with me,” I say. “To study it.”
“Yeah, well you can forget that idea,” Ethan says. “Man, their bites hurt.”
“I told you they don’t like being provoked,” I said.
“How did I provoke them? By looking at them?”
“You shined your light on them,” I say. “Remember that they’ve never seen light. They have no idea what it is.”
“Well, sorry for trying to help you see better,” Ethan says.
“I’m not saying you did anything wrong,” I say. “Only saying that you provoked them.”
“So did you,” he says. “You picked one up. They probably viewed that as some kind of act of war.”
I glare at him because his statement is ludicrous.
“Fine. I provoked them. But warn me next time,” Ethan says.
“I tried to.”
“Try earlier,” he says.
“I’ll do my best.”
The horde of albino beetles stays on the other side of the river, and Ethan and I have no need to go back, at least not right now. We’ll figure out how to deal with them when we return this way. If we return this way. Maybe there’s a different path without the insects. For now, we keep moving forward.
Instead of being in an open room with many choices, like we were before, there is only one path that lays ahead of us.
“Check out these markings,” Ethan says, shining his light on a bunch of carved symbols.
“More DNA?” I ask.
“It looks like it,” he says.
We find two more sets of the DNA carvings along with the three notches as we follow the path ahead. When we come to an intersection, our very first, Ethan and I study the map and agree that we need to go left at a giant rock with two protrusions on the top. The symbol on the map means “Devil’s Rock.”
As we turn, drawn on the rock wall of the cave, is the infinity symbol.
“It’s like on the piece of the rubbing I found. My mom put it there. And she must’ve put this one here.” I brush at it with my fingers. “It’s drawn with rubbing wax.”
“Something your parents would have had,” Ethan says.
“And something that wouldn’t have been around thousands of years ago when this place was built.”
It has to be a symbol drawn by Mom, like a message left for anyone who might come looking for her. I can’t begin to imagine what she’ll say when she finds out that someone is me.
CHAPTER 25
WE TRAVEL FOR FOUR MORE DAYS, FOLLOWING THE MAP. ALL THE WHILE, we are moving lower into the earth, continuing to descend. Each day that passes, my suspicions of Ethan wane. Though I would never admit it to him, him being here, with me, has made the entire journey tolerable. He’s smart and funny and protective, but not in some overpowering way that would drive me crazy.
We share our food and water. We tell stupid stories about our lives. And at night, I pull my sleeping bag close to his because here in the dark, I have reached the point where I have to know he is here. I have to believe that I am not alone. Because alone on this journey I am pretty sure I would go out of my mind.
That fourth night since the steps, I wake with a start. I click on my flashlight, sure I’ve heard something. Aside from dripping water and some occasional rocks falling, we haven’t heard anything since we’ve entered the secret passage. Even the wind has settled down to a whisper in this place.
Next to me, Ethan breathes deeply, fast asleep.
I shake him gently. “Wake up,” I whisper.
He doesn’t move.
“Wake up,” I say, shaking him a little harder.
“What is it?” he mumbles, not opening his eyes.
I shine the light in his face.
He winces. “Turn off the light, Hannah.”
“I heard something,” I say.
Ethan blinks his eyes a couple times and then finally opens them. “It was probably some rocks.”
“It wasn’t rocks. It sounded more metallic. I think someone’s down here with us.”
“No one’s down here with us, Hannah. We sealed the entrance to the secret tunnel.”
“They could have found it.” It could be Scott with the group he’s guiding.
“Go back to sleep,” Ethan says. “You didn’t hear anything because there is nothing around to hear.”
Annoyance flashes through me. “I’m telling you that I heard something. Someone is down here with us.”
Ethan shakes his head. “There is no one down here with us. You must’ve imagined it.”
“I didn’t imagine anything,” I say. “Now get up. We need to look around.”
Ethan slowly lets his eyes close again. “I’m not getting up. It’s the middle of the night. It’s probably just the beetles, plotting their revenge.”
“It’s not the beetles,” I say.
“You’re imagining things.” He lays back down, rolls onto his side, and is breathing deeply before I can even process the annoying fact that he’s disregarding my suspicions.
I lay back down next to him, and I silently click off my light. But I don’t fall back asleep. Instead, I sit there, in the dark, listening. I hear dripping water and small rocks and stuff like that, but nothing metallic like I’d heard before. Still, something had woken me. I know it. I’ve become so used to the dark that my ears have probably become supernaturally superior to what they were before. I listen for at least another hour, but I don’t hear anything else suspicious. And I begin to wonder if maybe Ethan is right. Maybe it was my imagination. Sleep finally comes.
My watch alarm is set for seven o’clock, not that it matters in this place. Seven o’clock looks the same as noon. I rub my eyes to help wake up. Ethan is still sleeping. I turn the lantern back on and then make every noise possible until he wakes.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks.
I glare at him in reply.
We pack our stuff, and like every morning, I check my bag to make sure the map is still there.
It’s gone.
“You took it,” I say, not really seeing the humor, but maybe he was just trying to have fun.
“Took what?” he says.
“The map. It’s not in my bag.”
“You must’ve put it in a different pocket,” he says. “Because I don’t have it.”
“You do. I always keep it in this front pocket.” I pat the large zip pocket on my backpack.
“Except today,” he says. “When you moved it.”
“Just check your stuff, okay?” I say. He could have borrowed it and then forgotten.
So he checks his stuff, and so do I because maybe I did accidentally put it somewhere else after we settled in for the night. I check every pocket in my backpack and clothes, but after fifteen minutes of searching all of our stuff, we can’t find the map anywhere. I even l
ook through his stuff just to make sure. It’s missing.
Realization floods through me, mixed with a rising panic. It’s like a bad nightmare where I can’t wake up. “Someone stole it.”
“It could have dropped out,” Ethan says.
I shake my head and clutch the straps of my bag to try to control my hands because they’re shaking. “We both know that’s not true. We were both looking at it last night after dinner. It was here with us, and now it’s not.”
“But it’s the only logical thing that could have happened,” Ethan says. “You lost it.”
I glare at him. I didn’t lose the map. And now we’re out of luck. We have no idea which way to go. It’s not like either of us memorized the map.
“We need to turn back,” Ethan says, like it’s all so clear.
“Did a rock fall on your head? Because for a second there, it sounded like you said we were going to turn back,” I say.
“We have to, Hannah.”
“And why is that?” I ask.
“Because we have no idea which way we’re supposed to go.”
“And?”
“And that’s not enough?” Ethan says. “We’re God knows how many thousands of feet below the earth’s surface. If we keep going, we’re only going to get lost.”
I shake my head. “I’m not giving up. I refuse to give up.” I start packing my stuff so I can make a point. Ethan watches me until my backpack is completely put together.
“So what’s your plan?” Ethan says.
“We keep going forward,” I say. “We follow our instincts.”
“Instincts?” Ethan says. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” I say. “But I do know that we are not turning back, which leaves one option only.”
“Moving forward,” Ethan says.
“Right answer. Now pack your stuff so we can get moving.”
I manage to keep my false optimism for the first hour until we come to an intersection. Ahead are two choices, right or left. Right or left. It seems like such a small decision, but if we make the wrong turn here, we could be off the path forever. I look for the three notches but don’t see them anywhere.
“We should mark which way we’re going,” I say, pulling a small can of spray paint from my bag.