The Dig

by Audrey Hart

  ―Get low to the ground. As close as possible.‖ Instantly we‘re plummeting down, like the airplane that took my parents, like an elevator without the hope of pulleys. Zeus pulls up at the last minute and we are skimming the ground, feet above the earth.

  I stare ahead, fixing my eyes on the ground. I can‘t do it all at once, fight off the bat-sharks and cling for dear life and conjure a wall. Again I must let go of the fear. I cover my ears so that I can‘t hear the bat-sharks screeching right behind us, lusting for my blood, and I focus as hard as I can. Now.

  A twenty-foot wall of rock erupts out of the ground. We are headed straight for it.

  ―Keep flying!‖ I scream.

  Zeus shakes his head and, trusting me, bears headfirst for the wall. Just as we smash into it, I soften the center of the wall into sand, and we fly right through it without impact. Instantly I seal it back up behind us, as hard as stone. The bat-sharks slam into it. They die en masse, exploding against the rock wall, their blood scattering into the blue sky.

  We‘re flying fast, and I should be cold but feel hot, and when I look back, I see a column of fire tunneling toward us. The fire burns and chases faster after us, closing in. There‘s no time to tell Zeus what I‘m going to do, and when I smell the smoke, I push aside my fear and stare at the ground.

  The specks of dirt rise up until I can see the variations of colors that make up the clutching strands of soil, and then we are swallowed up by the earth, plunging through the darkness, falling into a deep black tunnel, going where, I do not know.

  Chapter 40

  We‘re both on all fours, blindly crawling. Zeus leads the way so I can just follow and concentrate on moving the earth out of our way, pushing the tunnel forward to safety. We don‘t know where we are or where we‘re going and the quiet is eerie. We can‘t stay down here forever and we don‘t know how long we have. And it‘s my responsibility to get us out of here because there‘s nothing Zeus can do about the dirt. God, I definitely prefer flying to tunneling. Imagine how he feels, being dependent on a new girl and her mastery of the dirt? The dirt. I don‘t know if it‘s because I‘m nervous or scared or annoyed at the fact that I am, once again, caked in filth, but suddenly I‘m doubting everything and I know it‘s only a matter of seconds before I pick a fight with him. I lose focus and he crawls smack into the dirt.

  ―Sorry,‖ I say.

  He‘s coughing. He‘s probably going to bite my head off. ―It‘s okay, Zoe.

  You‘ll get your concentration back.‖

  Why does he have to be so calm? How can he be so calm when we might die any second?

  ―Well, that‘s easy for you to say.‖

  ―Zoe, what‘s wrong?‖

  ―Nothing. Just let me focus.‖

  And I try, but my head is clouded with doubts. Every time I lose focus and he bumps his head, he doesn‘t jump all over me and get mad. I don‘t understand why he‘s so patient with me when I‘m losing patience with myself.

  ―Zoe,‖ he says. ―Remember, we‘re deep in the earth, surrounded by land that you, and only you, control. So just relax.‖ And that does it, because I hate when I‘m nervous and someone tells me to relax. ―It‘s not that easy for me, Zeus. You know, I‘ve only been at this for a few days. I haven‘t had five hundred years to perfect my powers.

  So it doesn‘t really help when you tell me to relax.‖

  ―I‘m sorry.‖

  ―God! Why do you have to be like this?‖

  ―Like what?‖

  ―So… nice.‖

  He stops moving. I wish I wasn‘t a crazy person. I really do.

  ―I‘m sorry, Zeus.‖

  He doesn‘t say anything. He probably hates me. It‘s probably over. He probably curses the day we met.

  ―Zoe,‖ he says, after what feels like years. ―You know there‘s nothing arbitrary about our powers.‖

  I remember that we‘re on the run from gods who want to kill us and I know I must really be in love because I don‘t care about the pack of seething enemies. It‘s far more important that my new boyfriend and I get to the bottom of this mess. Oh lord, if I die, I‘ll know it‘s my own fault.

  ―I thought I got earth because everything else was taken. Isn‘t that how it works?‖

  ―No, not at all.‖

  Oh good. He‘s going to tell me that I‘m beautiful and blessed and otherworldly and amazing and special and then I‘m going to feel all good again and I‘m going to dig us out of here and then we can kiss again.

  ―You see, you‘re the most…‖

  Beautifulblessedotherworldlyamazingspecial…

  ―Grounded girl in the whole world. And we‘re under ground. So we‘re okay. We are.‖

  Grounded? Is he kidding? ―Grounded‖ isn‘t a compliment. ―Grounded‖ is something that your guidance counselor writes on your college recommendation.

  ―Did you hear me?‖

  ―Yeah.‖

  ―Well, we should go.‖

  ―Fine,‖ I say. But I don‘t do anything. I‘m frozen. I‘m on the verge of tears. Grounded.

  ―Zoe, what‘s wrong?‖

  ―Nothing, it‘s just, well, I don‘t know, Zeus. Maybe I‘m just too grounded to focus on my ethereal powers right now.‖

  ―You know that was a compliment.‖

  ―Oh sure. You‘re the god of the skies, who can soar anywhere in the world, and then Hera‘s all exotic with her power of darkness, and your friend Dio there, well, he‘s Mister I-Can-Make-Champagne-Flow-Out-the-Pipes, but yeah. I‘m supposed to be convinced that you‘re all into the dirt girl.‖

  ―Of course I am.‖

  ―Sure. Dirt is really glamorous. I mean, every guy dreams of being in the center of the earth where he can‘t see or move without getting dirty.

  Now that’s a hot date.‖

  ―Zoe,‖ he says seriously. ―I wouldn‘t want to be anywhere else right now.‖

  I feel tears well up in my eyes.

  ―Someone like Hera,‖ he says, shaking his head, ―she‘s not grounded at all. She hides in the dark where nobody can ever see her, not really anyway.‖ I think of Zeus chasing her for hundreds of years, trying to catch a glimpse, and I might cry so much that this place floods.

  ―But that‘s why I never loved her. See, I‘m like you. You‘re so grounded that people are afraid of you. And I‘m so…I dunno, open, that people are afraid of me. Your feet are on the ground and my head is in the clouds, and as long as we‘re together, I know we balance each other out.‖ I can‘t speak. The claustrophobia that overwhelms me has nothing to do with the fact that we‘re in a tunnel, in the dark, where the boundaries are shifting and invisible and the air thick and the end virtually nonexistent.

  The claustrophobia I feel is located in the deepest place in my heart, the place where all my fears of love and death and life lie low and quiet, so latent that I‘ve gone through years not even knowing they were there, thriving and growing. Zeus is my soul mate and he‘s right. We are exactly alike, and we are exactly opposite and the idea of someone‘s personality dovetailing with mine in this very specific and irreplaceable way is scary because it means that I‘m…me.

  ―It‘s okay, Zoe. You don‘t have to say anything.‖

  ―Zeus,‖ I say. And that‘s all I need to say. I have my focus back and the dirt is crumbling and we‘re moving ahead. I‘m dreaming about the babies we‘ll have one day, in, like, a hundred years of course, and about all the things we‘ve yet to do together, and my dreams are so intense that I know we‘ll survive and nothing will ever go wrong again.

  And then he barks at me.

  ―Slow down!‖

  ―Huh?‖

  ―Zoe, you‘re moving way too fast.‖

  Oh no. Was he reading my mind? Should I tell him I was kidding about the babies and am in no way ready to be a mom?

  ―I‘m sorry.‖

  ―Zoe, you can‘t think that running away is just going to solve everything.

  It doesn‘t. I mean, when you met me, I was hid
ing my wings and thinking I‘d just stay there, pretend to be mortal. I thought that‘s what I wanted.

  And now you tell me that I may as well be mortal because in a few hundred years I‘m just a joke.‖

  ―You‘re not a joke.‖

  ―Not now.‖

  ―Zeus, you know how you just picked me up? I was freaking out—‖

  ―What does that mean?‖

  ―It means I was scared. Anyway, you have to let me be there for you too.‖ ―Well, look how it all worked out for you, Zoe. Trapped underground and under attack and outnumbered.‖

  I lay a hand on his closed wings. I feel them flutter and I put my other hand there too and wait for his wings to settle. ―It worked out great, Zeus.‖ He won‘t look at me. ―I‘m sorry, Zoe.‖

  ―I‘m not sorry. I never would have found you if I hadn‘t broken the rules.‖

  ―Look around, Zoe. It‘s not looking so great for us.‖

  ―We made it this far. And maybe the others will help us if we go back to Olympus.‖

  He turns now. I can barely make out his face in the dark. He says,

  ―They won‘t, Zoe.‖

  ―But they didn‘t follow Hera before. There‘s no reason to think they‘ll follow Hera now.‖

  He stretches out and lies down. ―Come here.‖ There is just enough room for us to lie side by side. He pulls me in and his arms circle my body and he holds my hands on my stomach. We don‘t say anything for a few minutes. We just breathe each other in. We just memorize the way our bodies feel together, his sweet breath on my neck.

  His lips find my ear and he opens his mouth. Softly, he sings me the chorus from Rihanna‘s

  ―Umbrella.‖

  I laugh and he lets go of my hands. We both know that we can‘t stay here forever, that it‘s time to move on.

  We start crawling through the tunnel again. Within two feet we hear them.

  We‘re not alone.

  Chapter 41

  The invasion starts mildly enough. I feel something on my leg and I swat it away and then it‘s gone. It‘s okay, Zoe. You‘re in a fresh tunnel a few hundred feet below the surface. Of course there are going to be a few critters.

  Like the one squirming across your forehead right now.

  I scream and flick it away. I‘m embarrassed by my response. I‘m usually not that prissy, like those Greeley girls who climb on top of a desk if a silverfish tries to make a run for the closet.

  ―Worm?‖ he says.

  ―Just a bug, I think.‖

  ―Nothing bit you though.‖

  ―No, I‘m fine.‖

  We move forward. Trudging through the dirt. And it happens again.

  Only this time it‘s Zeus who screams.

  A waterfall of worms pours over us from every direction.

  I would scream, but if I open my mouth, they‘ll get in there. The worms are on my thighs and in my hair and wriggling onto Zeus‘s wings. We‘re not in a tunnel of dirt anymore. The worms are bursting out of the walls and the floor and the space for us is shrinking every second.

  ―Artemis is sending them after us,‖ Zeus says, his words garbled. He ducks his head and shakes off more of the foul creatures.

  ―We have to get out of here!‖ I cry.

  ―If we dig to the surface, the other gods will be right there, waiting for us.‖―Zeus,‖ I shout, having shed every notion of myself as some unafraid, canyoneering type of nature girl. ―Please just go! ‖ I grab on to him, hoping that I have a hold on his wings underneath the worms, and he yelps as we tunnel up through the dirt. I am pushing the dirt aside in a panic, shifting directions whenever boulders appear.

  But still we‘re moving too slowly to strip the worms from us. They keep trailing along with us, squirming sickeningly against our skin and hair, and suddenly I remember the trick from when I was running, using the dirt to propel me forward faster. I concentrate and use the dirt beneath us to launch us upward; we rise up as if in an elevator, and the earth is wetter and heavier and goopier and finally the worms are losing their grip. They can‘t move as fast as us. Up, up we go. There are no boulders anymore. Soon we reach the open air, and I have the fire of vengeance in me. I, Zoe Calder, will show Artemis that you can‘t choke us out with worms and get away with it.

  ―Take a deep breath,‖ Zeus says.

  There‘s no time to ask why because all at once the goop thins out and with a crash we burst into a world of water. We‘re at the very bottom of a lake—I can taste the freshness of the water—and it‘s dark and deep and I‘m flailing and short of breath. My eyelids flutter and I‘m panicking and Zeus swims to me and cups my face in his hands and brings his lips to mine.

  Oxygen. I inhale the lifesaving air and then we part and, joining hands, kick our way toward the surface. Our eyes are fixed at the darkness above. It can‘t stay that dark forever. Every lake has a surface and we‘ll be there soon.

  But the light won‘t come and my lungs are straining, threatening to pop. I can feel death coming for me, for both of us.

  Then Zeus shakes his arm and I look up and there it is: the light.

  We‘re floating and we‘re breathing and air has never tasted so sweet.

  Still gasping, I manage a smile. ―We made it.‖ His face darkens and he says, ―So did they.‖

  I turn around and see them, the six angry gods all lined up on the shore of the lake where Zeus and I first met. They stand side by side, waiting for me to try to escape. I‘m treading water and it‘s harder every second to stay afloat. My boots are heavy and my lungs are shot and I don‘t want to fight anymore.

  ―Can‘t we just fly away?‖ I whimper.

  ―They‘ll just come after us.‖

  ―But they can‘t fly.‖

  ―But they can do other things, Zoe.‖ He shakes his head. ―There‘s no way out.‖

  I don‘t like this. I don‘t like Zeus scared and I don‘t like being trapped in the water. Stone lily pads won‘t do much against the full power of Poseidon.

  ―Zoe,‖ he says, grabbing both my arms. ―You have to stay calm. We‘re about to begin a battle.‖

  Before I can tell him that the battle began a while ago, when I first met these obnoxious, cliquey gods, I feel something wrap around my leg and I groan and lunge for Zeus, shaking myself free.

  ―I swear there was something on my leg.‖ I want him to tell me I‘m just paranoid and nervous but he looks at me with fear in his eyes. ―An octocost.‖

  ―You mean ‗octopus‘?‖

  ―I wish.‖

  And it‘s back again, yanking me below the surface. I try to break free but its grip is strong and it‘s pulling me down fast. It looks like an octopus crossed with a piranha, and one of its toothy appendages retracts and hurtles toward me. Oh god, I‘m going to die, here it comes. I swerve with all the power I have left and the toothy thing grazes past my neck, just missing me. Now I‘m flailing my arms in a helpless panic, trapped in the water, unable to breathe or scream or save myself. I‘m too worked up to hold my breath and I see Zeus‘s wings span and rise and he‘s gone, swoosh, out of the water.

  He‘s left me. He‘s left me to die like this? I feel my lungs compress and my eyes start to drift shut. I think of those pompous gods on the beach, and with my last breath I will all the sand to rise and choke them.

  And then, without explanation, the octocost suddenly explodes, blasted to bits. I‘m free and Zeus is sweeping me into his arms.

  ―Lightning?‖ I say.

  ―You‘re welcome.‖

  Chapter 42

  While the gods are struggling for air in the sandstorm, Zeus and I swim for the shore. I‘m going as fast as I can but I‘m lagging way behind. Why didn‘t I stay in swim class? I think of all those times at Greeley when I pretended I was sick to avoid wearing a bathing suit in front of the other kids. You really can‘t live life worrying about what other people might think of you, because then you find yourself swimming to save your life and knowing that you would be swimming a lot faster if you
had mastered the crawl.

  But it‘s no matter anyway because now the beach is on fire—Hades has ignited the entire span of it—and the gods are bounding into the water, where, awaiting them, are six bobbing dolphins.

  ―Dolphins? Zeus, dolphins are good animals.‖

  ―There‘s no such thing as a ‗good‘ animal, Zoe. They all worship Artemis.‖

  ―But dolphins are smart. You know, the way that monkeys are smart.