by Clayton Wood
Hunter complied, walking out of the kitchen and into the foyer, then taking the stairs up to the second floor. He went into his room, closing the door behind him and throwing himself on his bed. He buried his head in his pillow, taking a deep breath in, then letting it out.
Great.
Dad was right, of course…and Hunter knew it. Tyler deserved to get his face smashed in, there was no doubt about it. But it sure hadn’t been worth getting suspended over. He’d screwed himself over…again. And without a scholarship, he was going to be stuck going to community college, the dumping ground for blue-collar schlubs and teenage moms. All the plans he’d been making for the last year had just been destroyed. His future was gone. His life as he knew it was over.
Just great.
He sighed, rolling onto his side and staring at his nightstand. At the framed photo on top of it, of him and his mom when he’d been nine. It was the last picture they’d taken together, before she’d died. While his dad was white and his mom had been black, he mostly took after his mother, being just slightly less brown. It wasn’t exactly an advantage. White people hated him for being black – while pretending not to – and black people hated him for not being black enough…and didn’t bother pretending otherwise. Points for honesty, he supposed.
Hunter stared at the picture, trying to remember what she’d been like, his mom. She’d died about eight years ago, and each year he had a harder time recalling memories of her. He’d have forgotten her voice if it hadn’t been for the videos Dad had saved of her.
Like everything else in his life, she was slipping away. And there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it.
Hunter sighed, rubbing his eyes and turning to stare up at the ceiling. She’d died on a work site, according to his father. They’d been rappelling down a tunnel when her equipment had failed, and she’d plummeted to her death. After that, Dad had quit being a professor at the university, going to work for as a consultant for the Army Corps of Engineers.
He sighed again, feeling antsy. He glanced at Mom’s picture again, then got up, hopping off the bed and walking out of his room. The pull cord to the attic was right outside of his room; he pulled it slowly, watching as the wooden stairs descended. He unfolded the stairs, then climbed up to the attic, flipping the light switch on the wall as he went up. The attic smelled musty, and was oppressively hot; he ignored this, stepping onto the plywood floor. He turned toward the far end of the attic, spotting a few boxes there.
Mom’s stuff.
He walked up to one of the boxes, kneeling before it. There was a stack of old photos there, ones he’d long since memorized. A few of her favorite books. A bottle of Egyptian musk, her favorite perfume. He grabbed this, opening it and sniffing it. He closed his eyes, feeling an immediate sense of peace.
It smelled like her.
He held the feeling for as long as he could, but it slipped away quickly, and he sighed, capping the perfume and setting it aside. There were a pair of workout gloves, still reeking of sweat and dust. Her favorite jacket – pink, a color she’d hated, strangely enough. A notebook. An old smartphone.
He paused, staring at the phone, then picking it up. It was practically ancient, probably nine years old. He blew the dust off the screen, turning it around in his hands. He’d never really paid the phone much mind. He pushed the power button, but of course it didn’t turn on. He glanced at the bottom of it, not recognizing the port for the power cord. He sighed, dropping the phone back in the box.
He was about to stand up when he glanced at the phone again. He picked it back up, then stood, stepping back down the attic stairs and folding them back up, pushing the trapdoor to the attic shut. He hesitated, then walked into the spare bedroom, looking inside the closet there. A few boxes had been stacked to one side. He rummaged through them, finally finding what he was looking for: a box of cords.
He checked each cord methodically, placing the ends of the cords up to the phone’s charging port one-by-one. After a few minutes, he found one that matched.
Bingo.
He plugged the cord into the wall, plugging the other end into the phone. Nothing happened.
Come on…
He waited a few seconds, but the screen remained blank. He shouldn’t have been surprised. The phone was so old that the battery must have died. He was about to unplug it when the screen suddenly turned on.
Yes!
He smiled, watching as the phone booted up. Rows of icons appeared on the screen. He scrolled through them, then found what he assumed was the icon for camera photos. He tapped it, seeing row after row of thumbnails appear. He scrolled through them, then clicked on a random one. It was a picture of Mom and Dad in their old office at the university, along with a tall, lanky younger man Hunter didn’t recognize. He swiped the screen, seeing the next picture…a dirt path leading up a hill, with a sign on the side of the path.
Welcome to Smuggler’s Cave, it read.
Hunter swiped again, seeing another picture of the path, this time showing it lead to the mouth of a cave ahead. Dad and the lanky guy were ahead. Dad’s muscles bulged out of his t-shirt; those were back in his bodybuilding days, before Mom had died. He sure as hell didn’t look like that anymore. The only thing bulging out of his shirt now was his belly.
Hunter swiped again. Now they were inside the cave. A few more pictures of Dad and the other guy. Then a picture of them standing beside a collapsed wall. Rocks were strewn across the cave floor, a small hole – barely big enough for a man to fit through – in the wall. In the next picture, Dad was standing in a cramped cavern. There was a large hole in the ground, and Dad was shining his flashlight down it. It was a long vertical shaft, descending as far as the eye could see. A rope had been tied to a large rocky outcropping near the hole.
The next picture showed a pair of muscular brown legs dangling into the tunnel, the rope extending downward. It was obviously Mom. He could barely make out someone further down.
He hesitated, realizing that he was looking at the pictures Mom had taken right before her death. She’d fallen down a shaft, after all. It had to be this shaft. His finger hovered over the screen, and he felt a twinge of fear in his gut.
He took a deep breath in, then swiped again.
Now they’d apparently reached the bottom of the tunnel, and were standing in a small cavern, lit by a few lanterns. Dad was pointing to a small tunnel on the far end of the cavern. The next picture showed them walking down the tunnel, and the next showed them in yet another cavern. The tall, lanky guy was standing next to a shorter man, and to their left was a thick band of black rock that extended all the way to the ceiling. Strange symbols were carved into that rock.
Wait, he thought. That doesn’t make any sense. Mom had fallen down the tunnel as they’d traveled down it…that’s what Dad had told him over and over again. Yet here she was, taking pictures of them at the bottom.
He hesitated, then swiped again.
The next picture showed Mom swinging a pickaxe, and the next showed a large hole in the wall, Mom standing beside it with a rather satisfied smile on her face. He found himself smiling, and swiped again.
He frowned, trying to understand what he was looking at.
There was a large tunnel, that he could tell. It looked to be made of pure rock. Ahead, there was a huge black arch, shaped like an upside-down “U.” It looked to be made of the same black rock with the symbols he’d seen earlier. Indeed, there were more symbols carved along its entire length. The arch surrounded a wall of utter blackness, as if the rock there had been spray-painted with black paint. He could see nothing beyond that. To one side, he saw his Dad and the two other men standing by the arch; Dad was pointing to one of the symbols there.
He swiped again.
More pictures of the symbols, close-ups now. He swiped through them quickly, until he found a photo of the arch again. This time, the shorter man had his hand on the black wall, and his Dad and the tall guy were watching him. Hunter swiped again, then blink
ed.
The next picture showed the shorter guy touching the wall again. But this time his hand was going through the wall. Or rather, it had disappeared into the blackness.
That’s weird.
The next picture showed the man again, but this time his arm had vanished into the wall all the way up to the elbow. Hunter’s eyebrows furrowed, and he stared at the man’s face.
He looked terrified.
Hunter hesitated, then swiped again. But that was the end of it…there were no more pictures. He stared at the final picture, at the man with his arm in the wall. It looked like he was trying to pull his arm back…and obviously not succeeding. Dad and the taller guy looked alarmed.
Hunter stared at the picture for a long moment, then finally shut the phone off. He left it where it was, letting it charge. Then he went back to his own room, sitting down at his desk and booting up his laptop.
Welcome to Smuggler’s Cave.
He did a quick search for the cave, and found a web page about it within seconds, along with an address. It was about an hour’s drive from here. He printed the page out, hearing his printer whirring as it worked. Then he grabbed the printout, folding it and stuffing it in his pocket. He walked back into the spare room, waiting for the phone to charge for a bit longer, then unplugging it and walking out of the room. He went downstairs, walking into the living room. There Dad was, in his usual spot on the couch, watching TV with a tall glass of brown liquid in his hand. It was already half-empty.
“Dad,” he called out. Dad turned to face Hunter. His eyes were glassy.
“What?” he slurred. Then he frowned. “You’re supposed to be in your room.” Hunter glared at him.
“You lied to me,” he accused. Dad’s brow furrowed.
“I what?”
“You lied to me,” Hunter repeated. He held up Mom’s phone. Dad stared at it, then shook his head.
“I don’t know…”
“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Hunter interjected. He turned on the phone, the last picture appearing on the screen. He tossed the phone at his father. It bounced off Dad’s chest, landing in his lap. He flinched, then set his glass down on the coffee table, picking up the phone.
His face paled.
“You told me Mom died falling down that tunnel,” Hunter accused, pointing at the phone. Dad stared at the picture, then glanced back up at Hunter.
“Hunter…”
“How did she die?” he demanded. “Tell me the truth.”
“She fell after we were climbing back up…”
“Bullshit!” Hunter spat. “Don’t lie to me Dad. You owe me the truth.”
Dad stared at Hunter mutely, then glanced back down at the phone. At the photo of the man’s arm in the wall. At the panic in the man’s face. Then he sighed, his shoulders slumping.
“Alright,” he muttered. He stared at the phone for a moment longer, then turned to face the TV. “She didn’t fall down the tunnel.”
“Then what happened?”
Dad shook his head mutely, staring at the TV. Through the TV.
“I don’t know,” he admitted at last. “She…it happened so fast.”
“What happened?”
“The damn wall,” Dad answered. “It took her.”
Hunter stared at him uncomprehendingly.
“What do you mean?”
“It sucked her in,” Dad explained. “Just like it sucked Corey in.”
“Corey?”
“The guy with his arm in the wall,” Dad clarified. “He touched the wall, and it went right through. He tried to pull it out, but he couldn’t. Then it pulled him through, and he never came back.”
Hunter processed this for a moment, hardly believing what he was hearing.
“And Mom?” he pressed. Dad sighed, lowering his gaze to his lap.
“She got caught in the wall trying to save Corey,” he replied. He raised a finger. “One damn finger was all it took.”
“Wait,” Hunter stated. “She got caught in the wall too?” Dad nodded, swallowing visibly. He reached for his drink then, taking a big gulp, then setting it back down.
“One damn finger,” he muttered. He took another gulp. “One goddamn finger.”
“Why didn’t you pull her out?” Hunter pressed. Dad turned to glare at him.
“You think I didn’t try?” he shot back. He shook his head. “I couldn’t save her,” he muttered. “It was too late. There was nothing I could do.” He shook his head, staring at the TV again. “I watched her die.”
“How do you know?” Hunter asked. Dad frowned, glancing up at him.
“How do I know what?”
“That she’s dead?” Hunter pressed. “You don’t even know what happened to her.”
Dad said nothing.
“She could still be alive!” Hunter exclaimed, his heart racing. He walked forward, grabbing the phone and pointing at it. “We could go here and…”
“No,” Dad interrupted, his tone cold. “We can’t.”
“But…”
“The government’s all over that place now,” Dad interrupted. “The Army Corps of Engineers took over after I called them.” He shook his head in disgust. “I asked them to help me find Neesha, and instead they took over and blocked me from ever going there again…even after I started working for them.”
“But she’s there,” Hunter insisted. Dad raised his eyebrows.
“Where?” he asked. “In the wall?” He shook his head. “She’s gone, Hunter.”
“Well, why didn’t you go after her then?” Hunter pressed. “You just watched her get sucked in, then left?”
“I didn’t just watch her get sucked in!” Dad shouted. Hunter flinched, staring at his Dad, who glared at him furiously. “You act so high-and-mighty, thinking you know what you’re talking about. But you don’t know shit Hunter.”
Hunter stared at his father silently for a long moment, then crossed his arms over his chest.
“You could’ve gone after her,” he insisted. Dad just stared at him mutely, his jawline rippling. “I would’ve gone after her.”
“You think I didn’t want to?” Dad retorted, his voice cracking. He stood up from the couch, swaying slightly. “Is that what you think?”
Hunter said nothing, glaring at his father.
“I was going to go after her,” Dad insisted. “But she told me not to.” He took a deep, shaky breath in, letting it out, his eyes moist, and pointed one finger at Hunter’s chest. “The only reason I didn’t go after her was because of you.”
Hunter felt his blood go cold.
Dad lowered his finger, grabbing his glass and taking another gulp. He stared at Hunter for a long moment, his mouth quivering. Tears spilled down his cheeks.
“She was the love of my life,” he said, his voice cracking. “But I stayed for you.”
Hunter stared at him, at the mostly-empty glass in his hand. Then he stood up straight.
“I wish you hadn’t,” he muttered. “You could’ve been a hero,” he added. “But now you’re just a pathetic drunk.”
Dad’s eyes widened, and he lunged for Hunter, whipping the glass at Hunter’s head. Hunter dodged at the last minute, and the glass hurtled through the air, smashing into a framed photo on the wall behind him. It shattered, sending the photo crashing to the floor, glass spilling outward in all directions. Hunter backpedaled, half-expecting Dad to come after him and beat him. But instead, the man froze in place, his eyes on the ruined photo on the floor.
It was a blown-up photo from Mom and Dad’s wedding.
Dad stared at it, his face turning deathly pale. He stumbled backward, landing on the couch and sitting there, his eyes unblinking. Then he looked up at Hunter.
“You’re right,” he muttered at last. “I should have left you behind.”
Chapter 2
Hunter slammed the door to the garage behind him, staring at the two cars parked there. One was a new SUV – his Dad’s car – and the other was a beat-up sedan. He s
tood there for a long moment, clenching and unclenching his fists. His father had stormed off upstairs a few minutes ago, going to his bedroom and locking the door. Which was fine with Hunter; the bastard could stay there the whole weekend for all he cared.
Lousy drunk.
He stared at the cars, reaching into his pants pocket and fingering the keys there. He was supposed to be grounded because of the suspension, but it wasn’t like Dad was about to stop him from going out. He was probably drinking himself into oblivion now anyway.
Hunter took a deep breath in, feeling his anger starting to slip away. He reached into his other pocket, feeling the paper he’d printed out earlier there. He took it out, unfolding it and staring at it. Directions to Smuggler’s Cave.
To Mom.
He stared at it, then at the two cars.
I can make it there in an hour, he reasoned. Dad would never know.
He walked toward the beat-up sedan, unlocking the door and getting inside. He turned it on, then swore. The gas tank was almost empty, and he didn’t have any money on him. He could go back inside the house and steal some money from his Dad’s wallet after the guy passed out, but that might take a while, and Dad had locked his door anyway.
But his keys are on the kitchen island.
Hunter went back into the house, finding the keys there and grabbing them. Then he hesitated. If he was going to try to get to Mom, he’d need rappelling equipment. Luckily Mom had taught him how to use it when he was a kid. Dad’s old equipment was probably in the basement. He grabbed his backpack, then went downstairs, finding a bunch of dusty old boxes in the corner labeled “work.” He searched through them, and after a few minutes found what he was looking for. Harness, clips, rope…everything he needed, except gloves. He stuffed these in his backpack, bringing it back upstairs and into the garage. He threw the backpack into the front passenger seat, then got in, turning the keys in the ignition. The engine roared to life; to his relief, there was a full tank of gas.