The Cave

by Amanda McKinney

  She steadied herself on one foot, fighting the pain that was surely shooting through her body. After a quick inhale, she nodded. “Let’s get this shit done.”

  God, he was beginning to love this woman.

  “Okay, I’m going to put you on my shoulders, lift you, and you’ll pull yourself up and over. Be careful not to hit your ankle when you go through the opening. Cause, you know—”

  “It’s broken. Got it.”

  “Then, just slowly slide down using the hand holds and land on your good foot.”

  “Obviously.”

  He grinned. “It’s flat on the other side so we shouldn’t have a repeat.” He kneeled down, gripped her hands above his head, and guided her onto his shoulders. A few grunts and girly curse words, she was secured around his neck. An onslaught of inappropriate comments came to mind, but he bit his lip. Not the time.

  “Lift on three. One, two, three.”

  Sadie gripped the opening as he lifted her into the air, then pulled herself into the opening. After a slow push, Sadie was through the opening and on the other side.

  Obstacle one, complete.

  With a single jump, Owen was through the opening and sliding down the other side.

  “Uh… Owen…”

  The tone of her voice sent a chill up his spine. He hit the cave floor with a thud and turned around.

  “… … Well. Shit.”

  Owen scratched his head as he looked at the bridge that ran alongside the lake, now halfway underwater. The thirty-plus minutes of tending to Sadie had set them back. He shifted his gaze to the waterfall roaring down the cave wall. The lake would continue to rise as long as the rain kept up.

  Obstacle two…

  He turned to Sadie, who’s eyes had grown to the size of her ankle. “Well, at least you won’t get wet.” He kneeled down to pick her up.

  “Wait.”

  “What?”

  “You can’t cross that bridge carrying me. Thing was half rotted as is. It won’t hold.”

  Truth was, he was worried about the same thing.

  “We don’t really have a choice, do we? It’s either cross or stay here for the night. We’re not trapped yet.”

  The words were like a cattle prod to her system. “Cross,” she demanded.

  “Thought you might say that. Bottoms up.” He stuck the flashlight in his mouth, reached down, pulled his Glock from his ankle holster and slid it into his belt. He swooped her over his shoulder, her hand dangling just above his crotch. Under normal circumstances…

  “Ow,” she interrupted his thoughts.

  “Sorry.” He muttered around the flashlight. “Hold on.”

  Owen took a moment to shift his weight, then stepped onto the bridge. Icy water seeped into his boots, hitting at the knee. He clenched his jaw and bit back a curse. Wet clothes? Fine. Soaked boots? Not fine. The roar of the waterfall drowned out Sadie’s labored breath as he slowly put one foot in front of the other, knowing that one slip, one bad plank, and he’d be in a rising, pitch-black lake with someone who couldn’t swim, or even tread water, for that matter.

  He pressed forward, testing each plank before releasing the three-hundred-plus pounds of he and Sadie combined.

  Finally, they crossed to the other side. He shined the light with his free hand.

  “Holy shit,” Sadie exhaled in his ear, the relief evident in her voice.

  “My thoughts exactly. How you doing?”

  “Dandy. Just get me out of here.”

  “Your wish is my command, dear.”

  With a bit more speed, Owen made his way through the tunnel, and rounded the corner to the narrow passageway that led to the home stretch.

  “I’m going to set you up on this ledge, then I’ll squeeze through, then pull you down.”

  “What ledge?”

  “To your left. You’ll straddle those stalagmites.”

  She looked up at the tree-trunk looking structures. “Impressive.”

  “You think those are impressive, you should see—”

  “God, you’re perverted.”

  He laughed. “Gotta make light of a bad situation. Okay, on three, I’ll lift.”

  “Okay.”

  “One, two, three.” The last word came out as a grunt as he hoisted her into the air. She pulled herself up as he hovered beneath her.

  “Got it?”

  She nodded, out of breath.

  “Okay, I’m coming around.”

  “Owen… um… … where’s the log?”

  He squeezed through the passageway. “What?”

  He followed her gaze to the small river of water rushing between two boulders, where the log had once been.

  “Well…” he fisted his hands on his hips. “Now we’re trapped.”

  Chapter 21

  Sadie blinked, staring at the white caps of water rushing over their only hope of escape.

  Yes, they were stuck.

  She looked at Owen. A forced smile pulled across his lips. “Hey, it could be worse.”

  “How?”

  He shrugged. “You could be trapped in here alone.”

  Well, he had a point there.

  She watched him look past the river, then back toward the Grand Room, assessing their next move. Her heart started to pound as her mind began to catch up with the reality of what was happening. They were trapped. In a haunted cave out in the middle of nowhere. For how long? Did they have enough water? Food?

  Holy shit—light? Did they have enough battery in their flashlights?

  How would she hear how Griffin was doing? If he’d even survived?

  Did Owen have enough pain meds so that she wouldn’t gnaw a hole through her leg?

  Dear Lord, where was she going to pee?

  Her lungs began to constrict with panic. She needed to get to the hospital to check on Griff… she needed medical attention herself… she needed a shower—

  “Stop.”

  Owen’s voice shook her from her impending panic attack.

  “Take a deep breath. Everyone knows where we are. They’ll come looking for us shortly, see that the bridge is down and know we’re trapped. Regardless, the storms will stop tonight and the water will recede quickly. We’ll be out of here by morning.”

  Morning. Holy. Shit.

  A solid minute of silence passed between them as they stared at the water.

  “Okay,” she took a deep breath. “So what now?”

  “Well, we get to the highest level possible, which is in front of the Anarchy room. We’ll hunker down there and wait until we can hike out.”

  “Cross the bridge again?”

  “That’s right.” He skimmed the platform she was perched on. “Stay right there,” he winked. “I’m coming around.”

  “Not the time for jokes, Owen.” She rolled her eyes as he shimmied his way through the passage below her.

  Once around, Owen lifted his arms, a smile on his face that seemed to help diffuse the anxiety coursing through her veins. The guy was made to deal with difficult situations. The guy was a born leader. She bet he had that same calming effect on every person he’d saved from perishing in the ocean.

  “Alright princess, come here.”

  She slid into his arms, and with a grunt, he hoisted her over his shoulder.

  “I don’t think many princes carry their princesses like this.” They took off down the tunnel, in the direction they’d just come from.

  “Sure they do. Haven’t you watched any medieval movies before?”

  “Those men are apes and the women are complacent whores who are part of their harem.”

  “If the shoe fits.”

  She slapped his back, then quickly gripped him again as they stepped onto the bridge. She watched the black water swaying beneath her with each step Owen took, motion sickness beginning to wave over her body. How deep was the water? What lurked under the depths below? To avoid vomiting all over her knight in shining armor’s back, Sadie closed her eyes—and her mouth—the rest of the short
journey over the bridge.

  The roar of the waterfall started to fade, and she opened her eyes as Owen set her on the cave floor in the middle of a flat, raised platform next to the Anarchy room. The lake stretched in front of them, still, a black mirror reflecting the beam of their lights. God, it was dark.

  “How you doing?”

  She leaned against the rock wall. “A bit better now that we’re over the bridge.” She smiled, “You, me, and bridges.”

  “A winning combination. I’ll be right back.”

  She watched him disappear into the blackness, his flashlight pointed to the ground. After a few bangs, he returned carrying two long sticks.

  “What are those for?”

  “A splint for your ankle.”

  Of all the people to get stuck in a cave with, she lucked out with a search and rescue expert. A heart-stoppingly handsome dreamboat with a body like a tank, search and rescue expert.

  “Where did you get sticks?”

  “The bridge.” He positioned the flashlight where it shined next to them, illuminating the small space.

  “You removed a plank from an already rotting bridge that’s our only hope for getting out of here?”

  A smile curved his lips. “Yep.” He grabbed his pack, unzipped, and pulled out a ball of cord. She watched him as he quickly, smoothly, efficiently used his knife to chop and smooth the wood, then place the slats on either side of her ankle. He was laser focused, his hands steady, confident, as he cut the cord and secured the slats against her leg.

  “Thank you,” she said as he pulled the last cord tightly with his teeth.

  “I’ve got a half bottle of ibuprofen left. We’ll be able to stay on top of your pain, and the splint will help with the pain, too.”

  “Do you think it’s bad?”

  “I think you’ll get to keep it,” he smiled. “But, yeah, you’re going to have a cast for sure.”

  “Dammit.” She blew out a breath and leaned her head against the wall.

  “It’s going to suck, but it will heal completely, and with this splint, you might not have to have surgery. I did.”

  “You did? Have to have surgery?”

  “Yep. Broke my ankle in two spots playing football. Healed, and here I am now, able to carry Dr. Sadie Hart over my shoulder with no more than a grunt.”

  She smiled. “I don’t think that’s only because of a nicely healed ankle.”

  “No?”

  “No. You’ve got cannons for arms.”

  “All the better to carry you with, dear. So, let’s get some food and water in you…” He searched through his pack, obviously uncomfortable with compliments. Which surprised her. Any guy that looked like that probably received more winks and whistles in one day than she got in her entire life. He had every right to have an ego the size of Texas, but he didn’t. And that was quickly becoming one of her favorite things about him.

  Owen pulled out an energy bar and a canteen of water and handed it to her.

  “I’ve got a pack, too, you know?”

  He grinned. “Let me guess, makeup and toilet paper?”

  She tossed it to him. “Take a look.”

  “Alright.” He unzipped her pack and began pulling out her own little survival kit.

  “Antibacterial hand wipes—good job—water… a compass?” His voice raised with surprise.

  “Yes… I know how to use it. Ass.”

  He chuckled and kept going. “Granola bars, a first-aid kit, girly-scented bug spray, a knife—nice work—lighter…” Then he pulled out a small, pink tube and cocked a brow.

  “Every woman needs her lip gloss.”

  “Makeup.”

  “Lip gloss is not makeup.”

  “Tell that to the makeup section at Wal-Mart.”

  “You spend a lot of time in the makeup section at Wal-Mart, Owen?”

  “It’s next to the condoms. Okay, what else… overpriced sunscreen that is not waterproof, and… a Blow Pop?” He raised the large, confetti-colored lollipop. “What are you? Eight?”

  “Hey, it’s a sucker and piece of gum. Talk about a winning combination.”

  “This thing is as big as a baseball.” He examined it. “Cherry?”

  “The best.”

  “Well, if the town’s blood sugar drops, I know where to look.”

  She rolled her eyes and snatched it from his hand. “As a matter of fact, I could go for a blow pop right now…”

  “I’m going to ignore the million comments that are rolling around in my head right now.”

  She unwrapped the lollipop and stuck it in her mouth. “Because you’re a gentleman?”

  “Exactly.” A smile spread across his face as she slid the sucker to the side of her cheek. “You look like a squirrel.”

  She grinned, knowing how distorted the massive sucker made her face look as she smiled.

  He laughed.

  “Okay, what’s in your pack, big shot?”

  “Besides my secret stash of Wal-Mart makeup?”

  “Right.”

  Owen grabbed his pack. “And besides the cord—that you didn’t have—to splint your ankle?”

  Her eyebrow tipped up.

  “Just saying, your girly pack could use some work.” He started emptying his own bag. “Let’s see. The normal—water, food, bug spray, SPF, a knife, first aid kit, tarp, fire starters—”

  “Fire?” Hope sparked.

  “Already thought about it. Nothing dry enough in here to light. Sorry.” He continued, “A tent…”

  “You’ve got a tent in that pack?”

  “That’s not all, darling Sadie…” He pulled out a blue roll the size of his fist. “An insulated sleeping bag.”

  “That’s a sleeping bag?”

  “Yep. And believe me, you’re going to be thanking me for this later. What else? Extra bullets, a compass, map, cell phone that of course doesn’t work out here, a few multi-tools, whistle, extra flashlight—”

  “Batteries?”

  “No.”

  “Damn.”

  “And, last but not least, most importantly,” He pulled out a brown bottle. “A pint of Tennessee’s finest.”

  “Whiskey?”

  He nodded.

  “Whiskey is part of your survival pack?”

  “Whiskey should be a part of everyone’s survival pack. Good whiskey, anyway.” He unscrewed the cap and took a swig. “Ahh, yep, can’t leave home without it.” He offered it to her.

  Sadie stared at the amber-colored liquid, debating. Was it a good idea to drink alcohol while being trapped underground with a man that made her stomach do flip-flops?

  Yep.

  She grabbed the bottle and tipped it up. After sucking in a breath and blinking away the tears from the burn, she nodded. “Not bad.”

  “See? Told ya.” He took it back, took another swig. “This beauty can clean wounds if you need it, too. Multi-purpose.”

  Her face dropped. “Maybe we should have used it on Griffin.”

  “Not those kinds of wounds.” Owen sat down beside her, leaning his back against the wall and crossing his legs at the ankles.

  “God, I hope he’s okay,” she whispered.

  A minute of silence slid between them as Sadie looked at the cave around them. Her racing mind evaporated as acceptance of temporary defeat took over. She was trapped in a damn cave with a broken ankle and there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t help Griffin, couldn’t console Kimi who she assumed went back into town with Lieutenant Colson, couldn’t get back to the lab to help Owen solve the mystery of his murdered uncle. Hell, she couldn’t even walk by herself.

  On an exhale, she leaned her head back and muttered, “What a freaking week.”

  “A dead body, a skeleton, and wounded buddy’ll do that to you… and getting trapped in a cave.”

  “And having my name splashed all over the damn news.” The words slipped out before she could catch herself. She looked over at him when he didn’t respond.

 
“You know, don’t you?”

  “The boys told me.”

  “Everyone knows?”

  “Hey, it’s not everyday someone from the Ozarks makes the gossip columns.”

  “Oh my God.” She shook her head. “Un-freaking-believable. Crawly and Colson must think I’m an incompetent gold-digging, media-loving…”

  “They don’t think you’re incompetent.” He winked.

  She slapped his arm. “But gold-digging and media-loving, huh?

  “I’m just joking.”

  “I have no doubt they think I’m incompetent. After watching me freeze-up because of damn heights? I saw the way they looked at me after. Their opinion of me totally changed.”

  “They’re just thick-headed good ol’ boys. Not used to working with a beautiful woman who’s smarter than they are.”

  “If you’re patronizing me, keep it up. I don’t care.”

  He turned his face to her, inches from her nose. “I don’t patronize, Sadie. And I don’t lie.” His gaze slid down to her lips, lingered.

  Blush heated her cheeks. She tore her eyes away and looked down.

  “So… what did happen between you and your billionaire beau?”

  “Oh you saw that headline, huh? Nice.” Of course he did. “My billionaire beau wasn’t for me. Contrary to what the gossips said, I left him, believe it or not. My friends thought I was crazy.” She laughed. “But no amount of money in the world could make me fit into his lifestyle. I tried. God, believe me I tried, but at the end of the day, it just wasn’t me. I dig in the dirt and analyze bones for a living, not spend my days planning dinner parties. It just wasn’t for me.”

  Owen shifted next to her.

  “What? This surprises you?”

  “I thought every woman wanted golden flutes filled with five-thousand dollar champagne.”

  “Everyone woman wants a man who can make a splint out of a rotted footbridge.”

  His lip curled up before taking another sip of whiskey.

  “What about you?”

  “What about me, what?”

  “Making splints for any other women in your life?”

  “Not lately.”

  So, Owen was single. And that made her happy. Very happy.

  “Been pretty busy since I’ve been back in Berry Springs.” He looked at her and grinned, “Otherwise, you know, splints, ropes, handcuffs—I’d be using my entire arsenal.”