The tunnel floor was suddenly beneath me, snapping at my duct-taped sneakers, and I managed to turn myself over. The beam from my flashlight brightened the churning waters ahead. I saw Pia. She was only a few feet away, rushing toward the black unknown.
Kicking and digging at the water, I closed the distance between Pia and me, then reached out and snared one strap of her backpack.
“Don’t let go!” Pia begged.
“I won’t!” I cried.
Pia and I were locked together in the inky muck that moved like a hungry black snake through its underground burrow. I aimed my flashlight down the rocky shaft. Ahead, the tunnel forked—the freezing water split down two separate underground passages.
The current spit us down the right fork.
The cold floodwaters held Pia and me prisoner for more than 10 minutes before delivering us into a huge teepee-like chamber. The roof angled in from all sides and came together at a point high above. The current had slowed to a crawl, and I stood up and shined my flashlight on our new surroundings.
I waded out of the hip-deep water and onto a rocky beach, Pia in tow. Her backpack still at her chest, Pia struggled through the water the last few feet and onto the broad limestone shore. She shook her backpack loose and collapsed beside it. She was shivering like crazy.
My backpack hanging from one hand, I stood on the shore shaking from the cold and watching the slow-moving floodwaters pass through the belly of the chamber. I couldn’t remember ever being so cold. Monroe had said the air temperature inside the cave was 56 degrees. It felt colder. Much colder.
My teeth were rattling in my mouth and my muscles were in the grip of one long tremor. Every movement required superhuman strength. I knew I had to warm Pia and me before hypothermia set in, and there was no time to lose. Ten seconds would grow into 30 and 30 into a minute and a minute into five and eventually we would die.
“Cold, Pablo,” Pia whispered, looking up at me, a curtain of hair falling across her face. Her lips were purple and the corners of her mouth were quivering.
“Hang on, Pia,” I gasped.
Unsure of what to do next—my brain was spinning like a spring tornado—I noticed a heap of debris floating into the cavern. When I lit it with my flashlight I could see that it wasn’t debris at all. It was Kiki! Her head, turned away from me, was resting on her backpack, which was flat against her chest. She lay motionless in the slow-moving water, her legs beneath her. I shouted her name, but she didn’t move.
I waded hurriedly out to Kiki, took hold of one strap of her backpack, and towed her out of the water and onto the rocky shelf. Removing her backpack and taking her by the arms, I laid Kiki on her back beside Pia. Unconscious, Kiki was alive, but each shallow breath made a wheezy, watery sound.
“Kiki …” Pia whispered.
The image of a Jamesville firewoman visiting my 6th grade class the year before took shape in my head. The firewoman had given a demonstration of mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and I dropped to my knees, pinched Kiki’s nose shut, and then placed my mouth over hers. I pushed out two quick, deep breaths.
Kiki’s chest rose immediately. She gagged on the water in her lungs, and then jettisoned a mouthful. I quickly rolled Kiki onto her side and she vomited a second swallow of water. In the next moment, her breathing returned in ragged spurts.
“Kiki’s alive,” Pia murmured.
Kiki coughed up another small gulp of water, and her breathing returned to normal. Her breaths were faint, but even. I knelt beside Kiki watching her breath go in and out.
Her eyes drooping, Kiki looked up at me. “Pablo ….”
“You’re safe,” I said.
Kiki sucked in a small swallow of air, gave a faint smile, and her eyes fell back into unconsciousness.
The cold had found a home in my body, and it was difficult for me to think clearly. The word hypothermia continued to blink inside my head like a neon sign, and I knew I had to somehow warm the three of us.
But how? It was me against the freezing darkness.
A gloomy headline in the Jamesville Times flashed before my eyes:
THREE MISSING YOUTHS FEARED DEAD
Ten feet to my left, in the cavern wall, was a small, raised opening about the size of a refrigerator door. The opening was carved into the rock face a few feet off the floor. Shaking with each small step, I shuffled over to the opening and shined my flashlight into it. It was a cave-within-a-cave, extended 20 feet or so, and would accommodate a person standing. Best of all, it was dry.
I crawled inside to investigate. The beam from my flashlight revealed dozens of bones scattered about the floor, and for a few moments I just stood there frozen stiff. Several human skulls were mixed in with the skeletal remains. The bones were everywhere.
“The graveyard,” I muttered, recalling the spot on the treasure map.
I swept the small cave with my light. One of the skulls still wore what had once been a fancy headdress. The red band of cloth surrounding the skull was in shreds, and the yellow and blue feathers were tattered beyond repair. The strange-looking feathers were not from any flying creature I had ever seen. Perhaps they were from an extinct bird. The charred remains of a long-ago fire were heaped in the middle of the chamber.
As I viewed the ancient graveyard, something shifted inside my head. The prehistoric civilization that had once roamed the halls and rooms of Bear Mountain had supplied me with the solution of how best to warm Pia and Kiki.
I would burn the bones.
But first a question had to be answered. It was a long shot, but the blackened leftovers of the fire in the center of the dugout gave me hope. I crawled back outside, glimpsed Pia and Kiki—they were half-dead, but safe—then gathered up my backpack, and slithered back into the cave-within-a-cave.
I removed the canister of matches from my backpack. I lit a match and held it up to the ceiling. “Please …” I whispered. The tiny flame came alive in the cold, damp air, flickering to the left, and then to the right before leaping toward the roof.
The cave had a chimney!
“Thank you, Mother Cave,” I said, raising the match closer to the ceiling. A thin crevice sliced across the stony roof—a natural chimney.
I fished around inside my backpack and found a small can of Sterno, one of the items Monroe had suggested we bring. I opened the can and lit it. The jellied alcohol produced an immediate flame, and I arranged a handful of bones around it. They must have been moist, because they sputtered and hissed, but in a few minutes the bones dried and the fire was burning brightly. I added more bones to the flames, and then went outside for Pia and Kiki.
Brushing her face with my hand, I said, “Kiki, can you walk?”
Kiki’s eyes blinked opened. “Pablo,” she moaned, looking up at me, her lips shriveled, her face blue with cold. “What …?”
“Don’t talk,” I said, taking her under the arms and heaving Kiki to her feet. Her legs were like spaghetti, and I had to work hard to keep her upright. I helped her over the lip and into the small cave-within-a-cave. Once inside, I laid her beside the fire.
I returned for Pia. Lying on the cold stone floor in a fetal position, Pia had wrapped her arms around her quaking body in an attempt to stay warm. Her eyes were open and looked almost delirious. I guided her over the rim and into the tiny cavern, and laid her beside the fire.
I made one final trip outside to gather up the backpacks.
I next removed the girls’ space blankets from their packs, stretched them out near the fire, and helped them onto the metallic sheets. I rested their heads on their backpacks. Kiki was asleep within seconds.
Another idea came to me, and after the fire had gained some strength I removed the space blanket from my own pack, attached one end to a ragged row of sharp rocks above the entrance, and draped it over the narrow opening. The temperature inside the small den rose at once.
Pia’s eyes were open and staring at me groggily, but her mind seemed to be floating in a blurry world of twilight.
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“It’s going to be okay, Pia,” I said, kneeling beside her and taking her hand.
Pia managed a small smile, her eyes fluttered shut, and she drifted off to sleep.
Dizzy with sleep myself, I added more fuel to the fire, then crawled to the rear of the cave and sat with my back against the wall. The wall was smooth and felt good against my back. I hugged my knees to my chest, drew in my shoulders, and closed my eyes.
21
My eyes popped open and I awoke with a frightened jerk 15 minutes later. I was totally disoriented. I’d dreamed again. This time it was the flood. Pia and Kiki had been swept away right before my eyes.
I glanced at the dwindling bone fire and everything came into focus. The sleep clearing from my brain, I remembered that no one had drowned. Pia and Kiki were safe. They were lying a few feet away sleeping peacefully.
I was warm except for my sneakered feet. They had a numb, wooden feeling, and I wiggled my toes inside the cocoon of duct tape. That helped.
There was a smell in the air that made me think Monroe was near. But I soon realized it was only the cave I smelled. I couldn’t help but wonder if Monroe had drowned in the flood.
The fire had burned down to a few charred bits, and I added more bones to it, and then crawled over to where Pia and Kiki were sleeping. Pia was curled up in a ball, one arm looped through the strap of her backpack. Kiki was sleeping on her side, her backpack under her head. I rubbed Pia’s wool shirtsleeve between my fingers. It was almost dry. So was Kiki’s.
A strip of duct tape had pulled loose from one of my sneakers, and I ripped it off and dug through my backpack for the roll I’d packed. I made the repairs, and then checked Pia’s duct-taped sneakers. They were wet but still holding together.
I crawled to the entrance and pulled the space blanket aside. I climbed out of the Graveyard, the damp, 56-degree air slapping me in the face. The flood had lost its punch, and the water was now no more than knee-deep. It was moving at a snail’s pace. In another hour, maybe less, we could begin looking for a way out of the cave. I had lost all interest in finding the treasure.
Then I saw something strange. At my feet, lit by the beam from my flashlight, was a tiny pool of water no larger than a dinner plate. At first I thought it was just my imagination, and I leaned down for a closer look. No, I was right the first time. The pool of water was rippling. The tiny waves began in the middle and moved out to the edges in a steady circular pattern.
I stared at the pool of water for the longest time. I placed my hand on the wet cave floor, but felt no vibration. And yet the puddle continued to wrinkle almost as if it was being shaken by some giant underground beast.
“How long have I been asleep, Pablo?” Kiki asked, blinking herself awake.
“About two hours,” I said, looking at my watch.
“I remember the flood taking me,” Kiki recalled. “Not much else.”
“How do you feel?” I tossed a bone into the flames, and studied her face.
“Okay, I guess,” Kiki said in a throaty voice, sitting up and looking around. “Where are we?”
“The place called the Graveyard.”
“Yes, I can see … I can see that,” Kiki said in a halting voice, her eyes sweeping over the piles of bones. “It’s sort of spooky.”
“But warm,” I said.
Kiki flashed a thin smile. “Uh-huh.”
In a few moments Pia was awake.
“Pablo,” Pia said, rubbing her eyes. “The flood … is it gone?”
“Yeah. Long gone.”
Pia nodded. “I was afraid I’d drown, Pablo. I was afraid I’d go unconscious”—she had mangled the word—“and drown and you wouldn’t be there to save me.”
“You’re safe,” I said. “No more floods.”
“Promise, Pablo?”
“Promise.”
Pia sat up and looked at Kiki. “Are you okay?”
“Uh-huh, thanks to Pablo.”
Pia crawled over on all fours to where Kiki sat before the fire and gave her cousin a hug. “I was so scared you were.…”
“Yeah, me too.”
Pia turned and squinted at me through the flames. “I want to go home, Pablo. I miss Mom.”
“Yeah, I miss her, too,” I said.
It was the first time since we had begun our treasure hunt that I’d thought about Mom, and the idea that I might never see her again filled me with a heavy sadness.
“I’m with Pia,” Kiki said in defeat. “I’m ready go home, too.”
“As soon as the water drops we’ll head out,” I said.
“Which way?” Kiki asked.
I hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“Is there anything to eat?” Pia said.
I fished around in each backpack and tallied our food: two energy bars, half a jar of peanut butter, two bagels, and a package of beef jerky. I divided the energy bars into three portions and we had a quick snack.
“We should save the rest of the food,” I said.
“Agreed,” Kiki said, her voice wrung out. “Something tells me we’re going to need it.”
I wondered how we would ever find our way out of the Bear Mountain cave.
“What are you burning?” Pia asked, inspecting the bone fire.
“Bones.”
“Animal … bones?”
“No, not animal bones.”
“You mean—?” She gagged. “People bones?” Her forehead pleated and her eyebrows knitted together. “Gross, Pablo!”
“These bones saved our lives, Pia,” I said.
Pia flinched with a sudden realization. She looked at me gravely. “Pablo, what happened to Mr. Huff? Did the flood get him? Is he … is he okay?” Her bottom lip began to quiver.
“I … I don’t know.”
“But he told us he couldn’t swim,” Pia reminded me, her eyes bubbling up with tears. “R-R-Remember?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, staring into the fire. “I remember.”
“Maybe we should go search for him,” Kiki said.
The thought of Monroe lying face down in some dark corner of the cave tugged at me. One side of my brain said we should look for a way out, the other side told me we should look for Monroe.
“First we need to find a way out of this place,” I said. “Maybe we’ll … you know, run into him.”
“That’s not a very good plan, Pablo,” Pia said.
I heaved a big sigh. “I know.”
I unscrewed the top from my canteen and poured water into a small indentation in the cave floor a few feet from the bone fire, which continued to burn warm and bright. The smoke twined its way through the ceiling of the cave-within-a-cave.
“Why are you pouring water on the floor, Pablo?” Pia asked. She was sitting in front of the fire with her legs crossed, and chewing on a piece of beef jerky.
“A little test. I saw something crazy earlier.”
I leaned down and looked at the tiny pool of water. It was still rippling.
“What kind of test?” Kiki asked. She was lying on her back near the fire, her head resting on her backpack.
“Look at the water,” I said.
Kiki rose up and craned her neck. “I don’t see anything.”
“Me, neither,” Pia reported, crawling over to the small puddle.
“Look closely,” I said.
The water quivered with tiny rings that formed in the middle and moved out to its edges.
“Oh, boy,” Kiki whispered. On her hands and knees, she had moved closer to the puddle. “Is that … ? What is that?”
“Remember that little tremor last week?” I asked.
“Yeah,” Pia said. “It was the day we went to the Outlaw Days Festival.”
“The waitress in the café said they have little tremors like that all the time around here,” Kiki said. “She said the worst earthquake to ever hit the U.S. occurred right here in Missouri.”
“I think it’s time we got the heck out of this cave,” I said. “A little tremor
outside this cave will be a big tremor inside it.”
“What about Mr. Huff, Pab—?”
Before Pia could get my name out of her mouth, the burial chamber vibrated softly for several long seconds. Shards of rock sprinkled down on us from the roof of our tiny shelter.
“Like I said, it’s time we got the heck out of here,” I said, exhaling a big rush of air.
We were gathering up our things and getting ready to leave the Graveyard when the voices came out of the darkness.
“Is that Monroe?” Kiki asked, straining to hear. She was on her knees folding her space blanket.
“Uh-huh, I think it is Monroe,” Pia said in an excited voice, fumbling with the straps to her backpack, which had become knotted.
I couldn’t tell if it was Monroe. And I couldn’t tell what was being said. All I knew for sure was that there were two different voices. I put a finger to my lips, and then crawled over to the narrow entrance of the burial chamber. I peeled back one corner of the space blanket, then peered out. Two shafts of light were bobbing toward me in the darkness.
“Is it Monroe?” Kiki whispered.
“If it is, he’s not alone,” I replied.
I could see the two figures more clearly as they approached. It was Monroe and one of the Blood brothers. Probably Earl, I guessed. Monroe was trudging through the ankle-deep water at the point of Blood’s rifle.
As they drew near, I could make out what they were saying.
“I’m telling you again, Blood,” Monroe said as they sloshed toward our little cave-within-a-cave. “I don’t have a clue where the treasure is located. I don’t have the map.”
“You’re lying, Huff,” Blood grunted, turning his head and spitting tobacco juice. “Why else would ya be down here iffen you didn’t know where that treasure was hidden? Answer me that.”
“There may not even be a treasure,” Monroe insisted. “Did you ever consider that?”
There were a few long moments of silence as they trudged through the shallow water.
“You’d shore enough better hope thar’s a treasure,” Blood said, jabbing Monroe in the back with the barrel of his rifle.
22
A Boy Called Duct Tape Page 14