Sinkhole

by Deborah Jackson

  She began trembling, her heart thudding against her chest. “It’s not that, it’s just . . . I think it’s too late.” The pain compressed her heart—there was so little time and so much they needed to talk about. This reminded her that if she didn’t hurry back to the others, she’d condemn Ray too. Despite this unprecedented opportunity to heal the wound in her marriage, she had priorities to observe.

  “I have to get back to Ray,” she said. Mark’s face flushed, his eyes blazed, and his fingers bit into her arms. She’d said the wrong thing.

  “Really?” His voice was straining to keep an even tone. “I’ve come all this way to rescue you, and you must get back to Ray.”

  “No. You don’t understand. He’s sick. H-he’s dying, and I’m the only one who can save him.”

  Mark frowned and loosened his grip. “What’s wrong with him? Maybe I can help.”

  Kat shook her head. “It’ll take too long to explain. A cave organism . . . I had to collect this other microbe just to fight it. There isn’t time and he’s a good hour away at full sprint. The man—” She pointed at Jorge, still breathing heavily into the mask, and Mark wilted.

  “I can’t leave him,” he said. “And he’s not ready to do the hundred-yard dash.”

  “I know.” Her stomach tightened into a constrictive ball. This was just too hard. How could she leave? But she had to. “I’ll come back. I promise. I just need to do this first, and then I’ll bring Pete to help you with . . . Jorge, is it?”

  Mark nodded, although his eyes spoke volumes. This didn’t suit him at all. Torn between duty and desire, for once his desire was to be with her in a cave. How wonderfully ironic. He wouldn’t release her until she gently pried off his hands.

  “I won’t be long,” she whispered, then wheeled and darted for the crawlway. She didn’t look back. She couldn’t. It would take all her self-discipline to keep from burrowing into his arms and never leaving again.

  Mark contracted his hands into fists, his chest containing so much pressure he felt he might explode. He’d had her in his grasp, her slender body shivering against him, and now, once again, he’d let her go. It just wasn’t fair! Not only that, but he’d traveled through the most savage environment on earth, descending treacherous cliffs, making nearly impossible dives, and had conquered his greatest fear just to get here.

  Mark took a deep breath, fighting to restrain his emotions. He sank down beside Jorge, who was breathing much more comfortably now. Fumbling through his pack, Mark found his stethoscope beside the well-cushioned case. He took a moment to auscultate Jorge’s chest, surprised at how clear it sounded. The Maya coughed occasionally, but he obviously hadn’t aspirated too much water from the sump. Maybe he’d be all right after all. Mark certainly hoped so. He couldn’t see getting Kat and an ill Ray out of this cave without Jorge. He’d come to rely on him so completely, he couldn’t see doing anything without the man’s guidance.

  Jorge’s eyes opened. He stared at Mark. His breathing still sounded labored, but after another bout of coughing he spoke. “Thank you.”

  Mark smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “You’ve saved my life enough times.”

  Jorge shook his head. “Not for . . . saving . . . life. Although . . . surprised me.”

  Mark tilted his head. What was Jorge getting at now? What else did he have to thank Mark for?

  Jorge sputtered and took another deep breath. “You . . . let her go. For . . . me. Very strange man, you are.”

  “Why would that surprise you?” he asked. “I don’t abandon someone who needs my help. You may think I’ve been spoiled and sheltered throughout my life, but I learned ethics along the way. Not just in medical school, but from my mother, and most of all, from Kat. But that’s not the only reason I stayed. Strangely enough, Jorge, I’ve come to consider you a friend. And the only reason I’d leave you like this was if Kat needed me more.”

  Jorge’s eyelids shuttered. His forehead crinkled. He seemed to be pondering Mark’s words. Why did the concept of friendship with Mark seem so foreign? Did he view it as sleeping with the enemy? Mark wondered if Jorge would ever be able to let go of his cynicism.

  “Interesting,” he finally said. “Can you help me up?”

  “I think you should rest a little longer.”

  But Jorge was insistent. “I must . . . keep moving. We’ll . . . never get out of here . . . otherwise.”

  Mark didn’t argue. Stubborn patients often recovered more rapidly than others. He bent down and scrolled his arms around Jorge’s back, expertly levering him to a sitting position. Jorge’s breathing was still labored, but he seemed capable of supporting himself, so Mark eased his arms away, watching for any signs of weakness. Jorge gulped in oxygen from the mask, shuddered once, then nodded to Mark that he was okay.

  “Should . . . take this off,” said Jorge, reaching for the mask. “Wasting oxygen.”

  “No way.” Mark grabbed Jorge’s arm and lowered it. “You’re going to need that for a while. I’ll let you sit, even stand. But there’s no way you’re taking off the oxygen yet.”

  Jorge rolled his eyes, but still obeyed Mark’s orders. “Where . . .” he began, “ . . . did she go? What . . . prompted her . . . to leave?”

  “Ray,” Mark practically barked the name. “Her caving guide is not well. I don’t know what it’s all about. She mentioned a cave organism and needing another one to fight it. She seemed to think he’d die if she didn’t get back to help him right away.”

  Jorge’s eyes sparked. It was a brief flare, but it startled Mark. “Dying? That’s too bad.” His words didn’t match his reaction at all. “Perhaps you should go and help. After all, you are a physician.”

  “I won’t be leaving you alone after you nearly drowned,” objected Mark.

  “I will be okay . . . now. Maybe we can go in farther. Try to find them.”

  “I don’t think you’re up to walking.”

  Jorge tilted his head and raised his eyebrows as if to say, “are you sure?” Then he dug in his heels and rocked himself to his feet. Mark clucked and grappled to support him, but Jorge just shook him off. “I . . . am stronger . . . than you think, doctor.” He teetered on the stone, then stood solidly in front of Mark, smiling. “See?”

  Mark nodded, although he stayed within reach, his arms ready to spring out and snap Jorge up in case he began to fall. Jorge pointed to the packs and Mark’s rebreather on the ground. “Why don’t you push those through the tunnel, and I’ll come right behind you?”

  This was laughable and Mark could hardly contain himself. “Jorge, you can’t start spelunking right away. I just got your lungs working again.”

  “And thank you for that, too,” he said. “But, as you can see, my lungs are functioning quite well now. I will be fine.”

  “I can’t allow . . . ”

  “We don’t have time to waste, doctor,” snapped Jorge. “Your wife and her friend need you. If my lungs decide to fail again, you will just have to breathe life into me once more. But we are going after Katrina.”

  Okay, the man was certifiable. Somehow Mark knew that his determination had nothing to do with helping Kat. Jorge was acting driven again, as much as he had the entire journey, and no near-death experience was going to stop him.

  Mark gathered up the equipment. “If we do this, you’re going first,” he said. “So I can keep an eye on you.”

  Jorge shrugged and shuffled toward the tunnel. With a wink at Mark, he ducked through the crack in the wall and dropped to his knees. Mark followed and soon found himself crawling at a good pace, listening to Jorge’s stentorian breathing. Even so, the Maya continued shoving his rebreather ahead, with the tubes still attached to him. He scrabbled through the crawlway until his light speared open space. Mark pushed their supplies after Jorge’s feet, leaving his rebreather behind. As the guide staggered upright, Mark was able to glimpse the cavern beyond. He shoved his pack out of the way and stood up. He couldn’t prevent his jaw from cracking open as he spun ar
ound, illuminating what appeared to be an underground cathedral.

  Chapter Forty-two

  Kat raced along the lake, trying to keep her mind focused on the task at hand. She had to reach Ray, and quickly. But she couldn’t prevent her thoughts from tumbling back to the sump, back to the troubled green eyes and caving-battered body of the man who made her quake and boil at the same instant. A man who was terrified of caves yet who had crawled, climbed, rappelled, and dived just for her. Even after she’d spurned him, turned down his offer to save her life, rejected him for the thrill of caving. He wasn’t a typical hero—he floundered through life making mistake after mistake—yet he was the best kind of hero. The kind who never gave up.

  Kat veered into the forest of columns, retracing her path toward the breakdown mound. She clambered over the jumbled boulders, more aware of the distance from Mark growing rather than of the progress toward her companions. She cast her beam over the top of the mound and found their anxious faces turned up toward her.

  “I’m coming,” she yelled, scrambling down the other side. “I’ve got more biofilm.”

  When she reached the bottom, she rushed over to Ray. “How is he?” she asked, but she could see for herself. Where she’d placed the sample, the wound had sloughed away the rancid skin and a layer of new cells had grown over the raw tissue. But around the healing area, pus and blood still oozed from blackened flesh, and Ray’s respirations had accelerated. She needed to work fast.

  “The one small area seems better,” said Megan, her lips trembling. “But I think he’s getting worse.”

  “We’ll see about that,” said Kat. She whipped the collection of sample jars from her bag and scooped up the jelly, dousing the whole wound tract with the mysterious microbes. Ray moaned as the microbes began their attack. It couldn’t be a pleasant sensation, but it was the only course of action. “God, I hope this works.”

  Kat sat back and looked at the others, who were watching her expectantly. Pete’s mouth twitched. “What gives?” he asked.

  “Excuse me?”

  “You look absolutely radiant, as if you’d won the lottery or something. Although I hardly see even that as a plus in our present situation.”

  Kat licked her lips, fighting to contain the smile, but she could feel it break across her face anyway. “Okay, we have won the lottery. Mark and another man—I presume a guide—are at the sump.”

  Pete’s forehead creased and Megan’s eyes grew wide. “Mark?” she said. “He’s here?”

  “Who’s Mark?” asked Pete.

  “Yes,” Kat answered Megan. “The guide’s a little the worse for wear. Actually Mark was just resuscitating him after the poor man nearly drowned in the sump, but they’re here and I don’t think their guideline snapped. We have a way out.”

  Pete’s eyes lit up. “Really? We can get out?” he said. “But you still haven’t told us who Mark is.”

  Megan eyed her keenly, then said, “Your husband? The doctor who should be an engineer who hates caves? That Mark?”

  “Yes,” said Kat. “That Mark.”

  “How did he—?” Megan smiled. “Wow, he must really love you.” As she turned and gazed at the twitching body beside her, the smile faded. “Poor Ray.”

  Kat deflated as she looked at him too. “You know?”

  “He was a little dejected—no, that isn’t the word—psycho before he passed out. He really cares about you. But I guess he’d finally realized that you would never give up on your husband. No wonder, if he came all this way. Why aren’t you going back to the sump to be with him?”

  Kat grinned. “I am. I just wanted to make sure Ray received the treatment. If you’ll watch him, maybe Pete, you can come back and help Mark with the guide. He’ll need to recover too, before we attempt an evacuation.”

  “You really think Ray will be up to it?” asked Pete. “Even if we stop this microbe from killing him, he’s a long way from climbing out of this cave.”

  “I—” Kat shook her head. She didn’t want to think about all the complications of their situation, not when things were looking brighter. “I don’t know. Maybe I’ll have to stay behind with him. But at least you two can leave now.”

  “No!” said Megan, pounding her fist on a stalagmite. “That’s not an option. We’re all getting out of here.”

  “Well,” said Kat. “We’ll talk about it later. Right now, I just want to get back to Mark. Shall we go, Pete?”

  There was no argument from the man as he stood and saddled his pack. A smile stretched his lips, and his teeth winked in the glow of the flashlight. He didn’t seem the least bit bothered at the thought of leaving some members behind. Instead he seemed focused on the ascent of the mound and the men who’d brought the key to their release. But that was Pete. Always concerned for Number One. But Kat’s dilemma was a great irony, far outstripping any worries of Pete. Would she have to stay buried with the man she couldn’t love and wait for either his death or hers? Would the man who’d come all this way to rescue her have to leave her behind? Could he, she wondered?

  Despite the harrowing experience in the sump, Jorge felt power churn back into him at the sheer exuberance of having reached the deepest chamber. Yes, he had nearly died, and it irked him that the doctor had been stronger at the most crucial moment. But here he was, in the very Mayan burial chamber that was described at length on the walls of one of the temples in the creeper-shrouded city up above. The pillars and flowstone extended as far as the beam of his headlamp. The lake lapped at their feet like an underground sea. Jorge turned and caught the doctor’s stunned expression. Mark’s gawking was enough to make Jorge burst out laughing.

  “What?” asked Mark.

  “You, doctor. Full of bruises and cuts, grimy with grit from the cave floor, and nearly wrung out with exhaustion. No sooner do you find your wife when you have to watch her leave again. Yet even after all that, you’ve come to appreciate the environment. The cave is no longer your enemy.”

  Mark smiled. “Maybe not my enemy. But quite the challenging brute.”

  Jorge clapped him on the back and nearly fell over. He was still weak from his ordeal. Perhaps he should rest.

  “I’m just going to sit awhile,” he said, sinking to the ground.

  Mark drew instantly to his side and gave him a hand down. “Are you all right?”

  “Tired,” said Jorge. “Surprising how breathing water does that to a man.”

  “I told you not to overdo it. Kat will come back, and we’ll make our way to the surface when you’re able.”

  Jorge did his best to hide a sad smile. The man had made a total turnaround in attitude, and it grieved him. It wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Mark was supposed to remain the arrogant SOB, as greedy and narrow-minded as all of his kind. Somehow this trip had given him strength instead of leaching it from him. It had revealed his compassion when it should have exposed his insolence. It had made him into a man whom Jorge could respect—or maybe he’d already been that man and the perils of this journey had driven his better qualities to the surface. Either way, it was unfortunate, especially if what the woman had said was true.

  After a good breather, he struggled to his feet, ignoring Mark’s proffered hand, and swept his light along the bank, searching for the wet imprints of hiking boots or a telltale mark of disturbed calcite. The small broken tip of a stalactite farther along the shore spoke of a careless caver hustling past, and something told him that it probably hadn’t been Mark’s wife.

  “This way,” Jorge said, gazing at the jagged teeth of stalactites dipping from the ceiling. “Into the devil’s mouth.”

  “It hardly looks devilish to me,” said Mark.

  “Who knows?” said Jorge. “The Maya called this cavern “the Green Eye of Death.” At least, that’s what they wrote on the walls of the city along with the symbol for cave, although I don’t see any reason for it. Green or yax is usually associated with life, the crops, and the tree of life. But it sounds like your wife’s associate st
umbled into something rather deadly. Perhaps the curse has something to do with it.”

  “Perhaps,” said Mark, “a perfectly logical explanation has to do with it. And perhaps we should be careful.”

  Jorge couldn’t agree with him more. One wrong move and the curse could be unleashed on them all. He stepped carefully, examining every rock and sweeping away every shadow. His chest grew tight, but he wondered whether it was more from anxiety or excitement.

  Megan switched on her helmet lamp, sat back, and watched Kat’s bobbing flashlight recede, the shadows coalescing behind her. Megan shivered as she felt the emptiness of Kat and Pete’s departure. Turning back to Ray, she studied the rapid expansion and contraction of his rib cage, the fluttering of his damp lashes, and the dribble of sweat from his feverish brow. The blob of gel that Kat had applied to his shoulder had oozed into the wound tract and seemed to be dampening the eerie green glow of the killer organisms.

  Ray moaned and muttered constantly, tossing his head back and forth and digging his fingers into the soft calcite at his side. Dribbles of mustardy discharge intermingled with blood from his ragged flesh. The putrid smell of decay seemed to fill the air around them. But even as Megan watched, she saw visible changes. The discharge converted to a clearer drainage—the organism Kat had collected must be halting the invader’s attack on the bloodstream. The foaming eruption of pus had subsided, as if it had swept all the polluted cells from Ray’s body. Ray’s mutterings gradually declined, and he was falling into a sweeter sleep.

  “Oh God, please make Ray better.” It was a plea as much as a prayer. For the first time, though, she wondered whether the plea was unselfish. Ray would hold at least one of them back from escaping this cave. Even if he improved enough to walk, he certainly wouldn’t be able to climb. The last thing she wanted was to stay behind with him, but she didn’t want to condemn Kat either, even though the woman had cancer. There was something more, though, something that tickled the back of her brain. Maybe she didn’t want to leave Ray behind because he was Ray. A sweet, generous man who was always brimming with excitement. Maybe she didn’t want to leave him because he was the first man in so many years who’d touched her without making her feel like killing him. It hadn’t been Kat or Pete who’d finally made her feel alive, who’d exclaimed over the wonders of the formations of this cave and had interested her in something other than broken pottery shards and long-dead civilizations.