Dane had already crossed, and now Jasper made his third trek over with supplies.
He made it look easy, so why did Eden’s limbs feel leaden with dread?
Finished with the gear, Jasper crossed to her side, holding out his hands. “Hand me Yeti. I don’t want him panicking on you midway through your trip.”
“I’m not sure I can do this.” She held out the cat.
Yeti hissed at the cold, and was all too happy when Jasper settled him beneath his coat.
“Of course you can.” Jasper led her to the edge. “One foot at a time. No big deal. It’s surprisingly sturdy.”
“You can do it,” Dane coached from the other side. “Just don’t look down.”
As if on cue, a frosty updraft chafed her cheeks. Never had Jasper’s proposed trip to the Bahamas sounded better.
Knowing if they were to stand a chance at finding the cave where her father might be hiding, she had to go across. She was the only one who could lead them to its exact location. She forced a deep breath. Sharp wind brought tears to her eyes.
“You’ve got this, babe.”
Eden’s heart thundered loud enough to hear it in her ears. She took one step onto the hard plastic lids, then another. Midway through, she made the mistake of looking down at the icy blue. A wave of vertigo swirled her off balance, but she fought her way through. By the time she reached Dane, he had to hold her upright, because her legs were too rubbery to stand.
“Great job!” Jasper shouted from where she’d come. “I see rappelling in our futures.”
“No way!” She laughed in relief.
“We’ll start off at a nice, safe indoor climbing gym.” He removed his gloves. Shoved them in his pockets so he could give her pet a rub. Had there ever been a sweeter man?
He stepped onto the bridge. One more step took him to the middle.
Yeti poked his head out of Jasper’s partially unzipped jacket, caught sight of his surroundings and bolted.
Jasper lunged for the cat, but missed. In the process, throwing himself off balance, and falling.
Eden screamed.
10
JASPER DREW HIS upper lip into his mouth and clamped down. Hard.
With his legs swinging, his arms screamed from the effort of holding his bodyweight with only the thin plastic lid for support.
He glanced up to see the damned cat leap safely across, but he wasn’t sure how to rescue himself.
“Hold on.” Dane tossed a rope onto the bridge. “Let me tie this off to a rock, and I’ll help drag you up.”
Now was hardly the time to admit he still didn’t fully trust Dane. But he didn’t. He had one shot to grab the rope. If he missed, he died. If Dane had failed to tie-off the rope properly, he died. If he tried hauling himself over the snow bridge’s side and his weight caused it to collapse . . .
Yeah, pretty much in every scenario he bit the big one.
“Okay! The rope’s tied off.” Dane ran to the chasm’s edge. “Grab for it, Jasper! I’ve got you!”
Trust was a funny thing. With his life literally hanging in the balance, the irony wasn’t lost on him that never more than in this moment had he been forced to follow his own gut instinct.
“Please, Jasper! Grab the rope!” Eden’s voice rose above his mind’s chaos. Even above his heart’s rhythmic roar.
His mouth had gone dry.
His fingertips had long-since turned numb.
“Jasper! The rope!” Trust. It all came down to this moment. Eden’s voice spurred him on. He’d learned to trust again with his SEAL brothers, and now was the time to forever imprint the lesson in his heart with her and Dane. Most importantly—himself.
“Jasper!”
He forced what could be his last breath, then leapt.
His palms slapped against the nylon rope, and though he could no longer feel his fingers, they miraculously still managed to grab. He had taken a firm hold of the rope, but still fell deeper and terrifyingly deeper, certain he’d made the worst mistake in his life by believing in Dane. But then with a sharp twang, the rope stopped his fall.
He crashed face-first into the ice wall. Tasted blood on his tongue.
But the rope held and Dane was pulling him up.
A few feet from the top, Jasper reached for the crevasse’s edge, and pulled himself the rest of the way to safety.
“Ohmygod . . .” Eden knelt beside him, cupping her hand to his forehead and cheeks. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”
The damned cat had the audacity to brush against Jasper’s face.
“Bit my tongue. I’m sure I’ll have a few bruises, but other than that, I’m fine. Dane? Where are you?”
“Right here.” He slowly approached, then bent at the waist, bracing his hands against his knees. “You gave me quite a workout. I vote that jinx cat off the island.”
“It was an accident.” Jasper groaned while pushing himself upright. “Could have happened to anyone, but I’m glad it was me. Poor guy would have starved had something happened to his mother.” He winked.
“How can you crack a joke at a time like this?” Tears froze at the corners of her eyes. “You could have died. I’m worried sick about my dad, but the odds of him being all the way out here seem infinitesimal. We have no business being out here and should turn back. Head straight for McMurdo.”
“We will,” Dane said. “But we’ve already come this far. Why not at least check the cave? That way, we’ll have a definitive answer one way or the other. We’ll be that much closer to finding Carl.”
Eden’s conscience forced her to agree.
For the next six hours, they trudged over the ice field to finally arrive in the meteor-strewn valley where she’d played as a child.
With her eyes closed, she saw her mom and dad, strolling hand-in-hand on the warmest of summer days. She saw herself setting up her dolls in the shallow cave. As a special treat, they’d once even spent the night in the shelter.
At the base of the trail they’d climb to reach it, Eden’s mother had built a rock cairn, then taught her how to construct her own. Would they still be there?
Her pulse picked up as she pushed herself to quicken her pace. She really hoped they’d be there. She needed them to be, to serve as a reminder that this small part of her mother’s legacy endured.
After another hour, they rounded a bend, and there they were—as solid as the day she and her mom had made them. Only now, there were three. Had her father made one, too? Could Dane be right and he was here?
She ran.
“Dad!” Cold air seared her lungs like icy fire, but she kept on charging up the hill. “Dad, are you here? We’ve come to help!”
Until this moment, she hadn’t realized how terrified she’d been of losing him. After all she’d already been through, having her father die was unthinkable. But as she gritted her teeth through the most grueling portion of the trail, she got her first look in the cave to see it was deserted.
Hope deflated, rushing from her chest as if her soul had sprung a leak.
She sat on a rock, covering her face with gloved hands. Her eyes stung, but it was too cold to even cry.
“Sorry, babe.” Jasper slipped his arm around her shoulders. “At least we tried. Even though he’s not here, we’ll find him, okay?”
She nodded. He was sweet to comfort her, but this was an ache too deep to touch.
“I was so sure . . .” Dane ducked to enter the shallow passage.
From this vantage, gray sky blended with rock, making the inhospitable landscape all the more foreign. She didn’t belong here. Her parents’ vibrancy and love was what made this place special. Without them, it was just another forbidding mountain that wanted them gone.
Yeti squirmed against her chest.
She helped him out, setting him to the frost-covered ground. He darted for the cavern, so she followed. If he did his business in there, she’d need to collect it. Out of respect for her dad, she’d do her best to maintain biological protocol.
The tight place smelled of dust. A trace of sulphur from a nearby volcanic vent.
“He’s gone,” Jasper stood at the cave’s narrow end.
“Good riddance,” Dane said. “Let’s get back to our rolling heater.”
Ignoring Dane’s snide remark, Eden asked Jasper, “What do mean he’s gone? There’s nowhere to go.” This far back, light was nonexistent. The vacuum of black made her beyond uneasy.
“Do me a favor,” Jasper knelt at the back wall, “and get a flashlight from my pack. Should be in one of the zippered side pockets.”
She returned a minute later to hand him the tool. He flicked it on, running it along the wall’s base until spotting a softball-sized hole. He placed his hand in front of it. “Feel that?”
Kneeling beside him, she removed her bulky glove to place her palm near the hole. A gush of warmer air blew against her skin.
“What’s taking so long?” Dane complained. “I thought we were leaving?”
“Hold up.” Jasper slipped his fingers between what they could now see wasn’t the cave wall, but a rock pile. “We might have found something.”
“Unless it’s a steaming plate of lasagna, I’m not interested.”
“Hold this.” Jasper handed her the light, then began the arduous task of shifting large stones.
Meow. Yeti poked his head from the hole.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” Dane joined them. “We should—oh my. Does the cave go further back after all?”
“Looks like it,” Jasper said. “Give me a hand moving these rocks.”
Yeti performed figure-eights around Eden’s ankles.
Finished, the men stood back to appraise a two foot-by-three foot passage.
“Carl?” Dane shouted into the black.
Eden held her breath while waiting for a response.
“Eden, do you remember this rock pile being here from when you were a kid?” Jasper asked.
“I don’t know. I mean, I guess it could have been. I never came this far back. It was too dark.”
Jasper took the light from her, then duck-walked deeper into the passage. “Holy shit . . .”
“Is there treasure?” Dane asked.
“Better.” Poking his head out of the hole, Jasper’s whisker-stubbled face was dirt smudged, but still gorgeous. “Footprints. Let’s put on headlamps and see where they go.”
“Wait—” Eden shook her head, trying not to get too excited. “Are they fresh? I mean, can you even tell that sort of thing?”
“Yes and yes. Which means your dad—or someone else who was recently here, went to a lot of trouble to hide their tracks going in. Now, the only question is—was that person your father, or one of Leo’s gun-toting thugs?”
11
“IS ANYONE ELSE thinking this tunnel is too precise to be natural?” Jasper had been leading Eden, Dane and Yeti deeper into the cavern for forty-five minutes and had yet to come to a fork in their gravel-floored road.
“Yes,” Dane said, “but how can that be? To create something of this scale would take tremendous resources—not to mention time.”
“Dane, if you’re back to thinking we’ll find a pot of gold at the end of this rainbow, you’re wrong. You know how absorbed Dad is in his studies. He might have long ago found this place, and sealed it for safety, but I’m guessing we’re walking through an ancient lava tube.”
The rush of running water echoed through the foreboding space.
The only other sounds were the crunch of their boots on lifeless dirt.
On and on they walked until the trail reached a dead-end at a black underground river. Their headlamps sparked on the view, making the water look as if it were undulating and alive.
“How do we get across?” Dane asked.
“We don’t . . . Check it out.” He aimed his light at a squared alcove that had been chiseled into the stone. Lined in a row were three gray inflatables, covered in dust. There was space available for many more. Twenty dusty canvas life preservers from a bygone era hung on a rack beside them, along with a metal box with the words: Erste Hilfe.
“My God . . .” Dane took a step back. “It’s true.”
“What are we looking at?” Eden asked. “What does that say?”
“It’s a first aid kit—my guess, Nazi.”
“No way . . .” She lifted Yeti into the safety of her arms.
“For years,” Dane danced his hands along the white metal case as if it were covered in diamonds, “there have been stories about a hidden Antarctic Nazi base, but I never believed them. There were reportedly covert German military operations in a vast underground complex in Queen Maud Land. But this is nowhere near that. Hitler was supposedly fanatical about having more than one point of entry and egress from any compound. This tunnel could be one. The river could lead to the actual facility. We must go. Immediately. Jasper, help.” He tugged on the line holding the remaining rafts in place.
“Look,” Jasper said, “I love a conspiracy theory as much as the next guy, but mostly on a Saturday night after downing a couple six-packs. This is . . .” He swept his arms open wide, shaking his head. “This is fucking nuts—pardon my French. There’s no way I’m letting Eden climb into one of those ancient rafts. The rubber’s got to be brittle as hell. If we fall into that water—well, it’s suicide. Not happening.”
“Yes, it is.” Her voice barely rose above the water’s roar. “If my father is down here, I have to know.”
“That’s the spirit,” Dane said. “Onward!”
“Eden . . .” Jasper went to her, planting his hands on her shoulders. “Listen to what you’re saying. That river could lead anywhere. For all we know, it leads straight to nowhere. I don’t know about you, but drowning in a cold-ass, black whirlpool doesn’t top my list of preferred ways to go.”
They locked stares in the gloom.
He knew what she was thinking. That even if they lived beyond this moment, the cancer would soon claim her.
She defiantly raised her chin.
“Eden, please . . .” He’d long since removed his gloves, and now skimmed his palms over her hair. “You don’t want to do this.”
“It’s not a matter of wanting to,” she said. “I have to. What if it was your father who was lost? Wouldn’t you do anything to find him?”
What a loaded question. Considering no one in his family had talked to him for years, he had no way to answer. Of course, he would love reuniting with his relatives, but at this moment, Eden and Dane and even the stupid cat felt more closely related. Sure, he had his SEAL brothers whom he knew he could always count on, but on a deeper level, this was as much of a family as he’d been part of since Mariah died.
“A little help?” Dane tugged hard enough on the raft stays that the entire pile toppled. A dust cloud rose. He erupted in a fit of coughs.
“Jasper, go back.” Eden had already left him to help Dane pull the nearest heavy raft toward the water. “Hike to the snowcat and then bring help from McMurdo. Please take Yeti.”
“And leave you on your own?” Not a chance. “Dane, get out of the way, buddy. Let me at least check this thing for visible cracks.”
“That’s the spirit.” Dane was practically jubilant. If he had to guess, Jasper figured the old dude was far more excited by the prospect of some vast treasure vault than finding his friend.
Jasper took his time inspecting the probably WWII era craft. It seemed solid, but who knew? There could be rapids ahead. One sharp rock could be all it took to kill. During his time as a SEAL, he’d spent plenty of time in cold water, but with proper gear. The three of them didn’t have shit. A couple of headlamps that could be picked up for a ten-dollar bill at any sporting goods store and a raft that may or may not keep them dry.
He tossed three life jackets onto the rear bench.
“What’s the verdict?” Eden asked.
“Help me get it into the water. Let’s at least see if it floats before we
get in.”
The rubber was a thick as the swastika on the far side was creepy. No matter how compelling the end result might be of possibly reuniting Eden with her dad, this was a seriously bad idea.
“It floats.” Dane actually clapped.
Lord . . .
“Looks like we have our answer,” Eden redirected her headlamp onto the raft. “Full speed ahead.” Before Jasper could stop her, she tossed her pack into the craft, then placed Yeti on the middle seat before climbing in beside him.
“Any sign of it taking on water?” Jasper asked.
“Nope.”
He held the craft by an old school jute rope that had seen way better days. “Let me at least change out the guide rope. If we need to tie it off with this crap, it’ll never hold.” The raft had three wooden seats and a plywood floor—at least it looked like painted plywood. Had they even made it back then? History hadn’t been his best subject.
He finished the task sooner than he’d liked. He’d hoped for a miracle to avoid this trip into inky black, but none came.
Dane climbed aboard. “This sure beats walking.”
“I’d hold your judgement till we survive the next ten minutes. Dane, do me a favor and keep your light focused on the floor. If you see so much as a drop of water, let me know.”
“Sure thing.” He used his coat sleeve to brush dust from the seat before sitting.
Jasper shook his head. The guy was a cornball, but he was growing on him.
“Hold on,” Jasper coiled the rope in his left hand, then grabbed hold of the raft with his right. He’d performed the maneuver of shoving off with one foot on shore too many times to count, yet this time was the most disconcerting. Never had he had more at stake.
He used an oar to help steer them into the middle of the channel, but the current pretty much took them where it wanted them to go. The humidity made the air dank. Somehow it felt colder than while trudging through wind and snow. This was the kind of cold that sunk deep into his marrow. Never had he wished more to be on his dream beach in the Bahamas.
Yet oddly enough, the deeper they traveled, the warmer it grew.
Outcast (SEAL Team: Disavowed Book 2) Page 9