by Joe Nobody
Almost every evening, the commander contemplated whether to turn back, stay put, or continue to the Lone Star State. Archie’s gardens, as much as the Cliff House’s herd, were inviting oases of calm and order in what was otherwise a world of swirling insanity. Maybe his voyage to reunite with his family was a pipe dream. Maybe his best chance at survival and happiness meant sheltering in place. If only he could pick up a cell phone and call the girls, hear their voices, know that they were alive and wanted him back … but long distance communication was ancient history now. If he needed answers to those questions, he would have to venture further east. And in the meantime, he would just have to make the best decisions he could based on the limited information he had, and those parameters were tough for Commander Cisco.
Gingerly flexing his arm to test both its strength and the level of pain associated with movement, thoughts of Mylie entered Jack’s mind.
Theirs, like so many, had been a chance meeting.
Jack had been in his last year at Annapolis and a brigade commander of midshipmen. Right before Christmas break rolled around, his mom called him about family holiday plans. As luck would have it, Aunt Grace required emergency surgery for her hernia, and the commander’s mother had been called to care for her. Jack was not known for his bedside manner, and Mama Cisco recommended that her son might want to go home with a classmate over the Christmas break. “Jack,” she had suggested, “you know I love you, but Grace needs complete rest to recuperate. That smart-ass sense of humor of yours would tear out every surgical stitch for sure. Santa’s just going to have to come a bit later.”
That holiday detour had taken the young Cisco to central Texas Hill Country and a town he’d never heard of called Fredericksburg.
There in the arid Lone Star State’s midsection, about as far away from the open ocean as the first-class midshipman could imagine, Jack discovered that Fredericksburg had been the home of another famous sailor – Admiral Chester Nimitz.
After hiking Enchanted Rock and consuming a healthy amount of beer and brats, Cisco seemed to even speak German. Breaking away from the festivities, Jack was excited to discover that the town had a museum dedicated to the Admiral and the Pacific War, and that’s where he’d met Mylie.
He could still remember walking through the front door of the place, wide-eyed and impressed that a small, landlocked burg could host such an extensive facility. Ten seconds later, after seeing the smiling, gorgeous, young woman working at the reception desk, Jack had forgotten all about Admiral Nimitz and the war with Japan.
It took Midshipman Cisco another five minutes to build up enough courage to approach her.
Despite the clumsiest conversation Jack had ever attempted, he somehow managed a dinner date for that very evening.
Over a cheeseburger and fries, Jack quickly learned that Mylie lived on a small ranch just outside of town, her father raising breeding stock that was well-known throughout the region. Her mother was a professor at the local community college, teaching political science.
Mylie claimed that both sides of her family could trace their German roots back at least 300 years. Given her silk-like, blonde hair and jade green eyes, Jack believed her.
Two nights later, with a polka band playing in the background at a local watering hole, Mylie disclosed that she was about to leave her childhood home and venture off to Texas A&M. The museum was just a summer job. She wasn’t even sure who Chester Nimitz was, or why he was so popular with all the nice, old men who came in wearing hats that sparkled with pins and were embroidered with “Navy,” “Veteran,” and ship names from World War Two.
Unlike Jack, her family life was quiet, secure, and well-structured. The commander had often wondered if part of his wife’s struggling with his extended deployments was due to the “Leave It To Beaver,” environment in which she had been raised.
They had kept in touch throughout his final year, somehow managing to carry out a long-distance romance. Finally, more than two years later, they were married at the Fredericksburg First Baptist Church.
She left Texas with a strong belief in the family unit and the traditional roles each partner played. Life married to a career Naval officer, especially a submariner, quickly changed all that.
Her freshman and sophomore years in college had represented the first time she had left home for any extended period. Married to Jack, she had been forced to pack up and move to three different bases in less than 24 months. Not exactly the best lifestyle for finishing her degree. In the midst of what was a whirlwind of new places, faces, quarters and friends, Mylie became pregnant. Her husband was at sea when the labor pains began.
Sitting on his cot, Jack shook his head at the memories. “If I could just take a few moments back,” he whispered, frowning deeply. “If I had just handled that differently … if I could have just shown a bit more understanding when … this would have turned out so differently.”
Standing while still manipulating his swollen arm, it dawned on Jack that Carlsbad and its caverns might be his salvation.
Here, for the first time since he’d begun this crazy adventure, Jack saw long-term hope. The cave was safe, had the opportunity for a renewable food source, and possessed the infrastructure that would allow for the rebuilding of society.
Here, inside this subterranean community, you could raise a family. You could breathe down here without a mask. You could walk around without a rifle. You could drink without fear and even take a bath.
Glancing around at the stone façade, the commander had to admit it wasn’t Los Angeles or Atlanta or even Terre Haute. Yet, it was far and above any place else he’d encountered. Carmen had mentioned that there were hundreds of miles of caves and trails. In Jack’s mind, that translated into enough space for hundreds, if not thousands of people.
Here was a solution. A fix. An answer to his most nagging issue, other than wondering if Mylie and the girls were still alive.
That thought made him turn to what he believed was the east, and Texas. “I’m coming,” he whispered.
It then occurred to Jack that he’d left his bike and the precious contents of his pack at the trailhead. Ignoring the shot of hot pain jolting through his frame, the commander rose and went to look for Norval or one of his brood.
He didn’t have to go far.
A lanky ranger appeared at the room’s opening before Jack had made it three steps. “Can I help you, sir?” the man asked, adjusting the rifle resting in the crook of his arm.
Jack got the sense that the guy was a guard who been assigned to watch the prisoner. Was he a captive?
“I just remembered that I left some extremely valuable equipment at the trailhead leading to the spring,” Jack responded honestly. “I was going to see if someone would help me find my way to retrieve it.”
“Are you talking about your bicycle and pack?” the young ranger asked.
“Yes,” replied Jack, slightly surprised by the man’s knowledge. “Those items are all I own, and they are critical to my journey.”
“We brought them back here to the caves. They are safe.”
The first feeling that entered into the commander’s head was curiosity. How had they found his bike so quickly? What were they doing in the open air? The answer was obvious after a time – the rangers had been making sure their enemy wasn’t going to come back. His tools had been a surprise discovery.
“Well, given the perilous conditions outside, I am sure there is someone’s hand I should shake for the neighborly assistance,” Jack began plying the sentry with kindness before making his request. “But you know,” he continued, “one of the tires was riding oddly, and I have a repair kit stashed in my pack. I would sure like to check that out now if it wouldn’t be too much trouble,” Jack suggested.
A flash of puzzlement passed across the sentry’s eyes, but then he shrugged. “Follow me, please.”
Jack was led through a series of formations, some of the underground passages narrow and tight, others sporting soaring ce
ilings and ornate crystal formations. It was evident this section of the caverns had been part of the public area, the smooth, poured concrete paths easy to negotiate.
After only a few twists and turns, Jack became disoriented, the state troubling the commander even further. How in the hell would he get out of this place if bad came to worse? It was a labyrinth with few landmarks and without any sky to provide a sense of direction; he could envision himself wandering down here forever. At least a mouse can smell his way through the maze, the commander mused, wishing he had a pocket full of breadcrumbs to mark his way.
Around another turn, Jack heard voices and within moments was standing beside Norval. There, resting against a rock wall, was his bike. The backpack was on an oversized, mahogany table that the head ranger was using as a desk.
“Oh, hello,” Norval greeted with a cheery voice. “Couldn’t rest?”
“No, I’m too tense after that gunfight,” Jack stated with a nod. “Then I realized I’d left my only worldly possessions at the trail head. Thank you for retrieving them.”
Stepping to his pack, Jack realized instantly someone had rifled through the contents. He always closed the pouches the same, specific way, and the buckles had clearly been disturbed.
It then dawned on the commander that he, in Ranger Pickett’s shoes, would have done the exact same thing. Trust would have to be earned by both sides.
Norval interrupted Jack’s examination with an offer, “Would you like a tour of one of our most amazing national treasures, Commander?”
Again, Jack found himself at a loss for words. Slightly embarrassed over his paranoia regarding his hosts, Cisco nodded and answered, “That would be interesting. Thank you.”
As the two sauntered away from Cisco’s belongings, Pickett began his spiel with a tone worthy of a professional tour guide. Obviously, the man had done this before, probably entertaining countless vacationers who had flocked to the park for decades.
Jack was shown several breathtaking formations, numerous passages, and even an underground stream flowing across the rock floor. His biggest surprise, however, was an elevator! The damn thing was even working!
“Come on,” Norval waved, “I’ll take you down to the basement.”
The two men stepped into the lift, and a few moments later Jack felt his weight being raised off the floor as the car rushed downward. “How deep are we going?”
Nodding at the frequently asked question, Norval answered, “This elevator is the equivalent of an above-ground unit servicing a 78-story skyscraper.”
“I haven’t felt that same tickle in my gut since I was strapped to the Goliath at Magic Mountain,” the commander teased. Downward they dropped, Jack finding himself fascinated by the recessed electric lights on the car’s roof. He was constantly amazed at the first electricity he’d seen since leaving Utah.
At Norval’s behest, Jack stepped off the elevator after it had slowed and finally settled at the bottom. He was amazed at the sight that met his eyes.
The Grand Room was enormous, the ceiling so high it was barely visible in the dim, manmade light. The place reminded the commander of the one time he’d visited the domed football stadium in New Orleans. “This reminds me of the Superdome,” he whispered.
“Actually, this room is a bit larger,” Ranger Pickett stated with pride. “We are over 600 feet below the surface here.”
The tour continued, Jack astonished by the next feature his guide pointed out. “We have a fully equipped restaurant, and quite frankly, it saved our bacon when Yellowstone exploded. There are over 400 square feet of freezer space right here, and another huge area of supply rooms is positioned at the back of the cafeteria. We used to carry quite the frozen food inventory,” he paused to change direction in his tour. “Several hundred tourists dined with us daily. And because of our unique location, it’s not like we could just snap our fingers for more brisket or fries. Our suppliers struggled with the time involved in delivering product underground, so we just added more coolers and storage.”
Sure enough, Jack was shown into a large, glass-fronted sub-building that seemed to come right out of the grotto’s rock walls. Inside were rows of tables, complete with napkin holders and salt and pepper shakers. He noted the menu board offered a cheeseburger value meal for $8.99, complete with soft drink. “Wow,” he mumbled. “What’s the special today?”
Norval chuckled at the attempt to lighten the mood. “We’ve had to ration the supplies,” he admitted. “While we have virtually unlimited water, there are only so many calories down here.”
“How much do you have left?” Jack inquired, more to make conversation than anything else.
“That’s not discussed,” Pickett curtly replied.
Jack found the ranger’s answer odd, the hairs on the back of his neck stretching taunt at Norval’s tone. Before he could formulate a response, the head ranger was leading the way down another walkway.
The manmade path soon morphed into a bridge of sorts, the walkway meandering between two bodies of water. “How deep do you think those pools are?” Norval asked, producing a flashlight and illuminating the bottom.
“Umm… about two feet I’d guess,” Jack answered, not sure what point his host was trying to make.
With a laugh, Norval said, “This one is over 12 feet deep. The water is so clear and pure, it’s difficult to judge the depth.”
Indeed, Jack would have never conceived the pools were so large. Like the ones he’d been shown before, it looked like he could have easily reached in and touched the stone he saw through the clear basin.
They continued the tour, Norval pointing out various formations while terms like speleothems, stalactites, soda straws, and draperies rolled off his tongue with ease.
The two men paused a bit later, the tour guide indicating a stunning crystal created by dripping water and stating something about the formation being over 50,000 years old. Jack, mildly interested, soon let his focus drift to a nearby opening in the rock wall.
Without asking or waiting, the commander stepped toward the hidden crevice, and noticed the sign that indicated, “Park Personnel Only,” above the entrance. This area was obviously “behind the curtains,” the lighting chosen for utility and function rather than esthetics … and the floor less worn than that of the main trail. A bit further in, he spied a large steel door with a heavy padlock in place.
“That area is off limits,” Norval’s harsh voice boomed from behind. “You shouldn’t venture off the main paths.”
This time, Jack was ready and pushed back. “Why?”
Pickett blinked once, then again. His mouth moved but no words came out. It was as if the man was completely shocked that Jack would question his authority.
“Because … well … because I said it’s off limits,” sounded the now-angry ranger.
Before Jack could challenge the logic of the man’s statement, Norval recovered, “There is dangerous equipment in our system. Sometimes the electrical wiring gets corroded, and we wouldn’t want any of our guests getting a nasty jolt.”
The answer was bullshit, and Jack knew it. He’d been around high voltage conduits most of his professional career and knew no government installation would install such an apparatus without a plethora of warning signs and fail safes.
Before the commander could push back, Carmen appeared out of the shadows. “Oh, there you are,” her soft voice soothed. “I’ve been looking all over. We’re going to be shutting down the generator an hour early this evening. One of the engineers wants to perform some service on the machinery.”
Again, Jack found himself not understanding. Ranger Pickett, apparently satisfied with the distraction her warning had provided, answered Jack’s unasked question. “We’ve found it is better for everyone’s attitude if we have a day and night cycle, just like life on the surface. Sunset is evidently coming an hour early this evening.”
Grunting, the commander responded, “That’s pretty interesting. We do the exact same thing on subma
rines. The Silent Service discovered that people perform better if the boats mimic the shifts of night and day.”
With a broad smile, Norval turned to his second in command and announced, “See, I told you it was a good idea. Besides, it will make our supply of diesel fuel last twice as long.”
Jack thought he must have counted a million sheep before slumber overtook him. A gentle snore indicated he was finally sleeping soundly despite being in a strange place surrounded by unknown people. Suddenly, he snapped wide awake, a scraping sound yanking him back to full awareness.
He rolled over on his side ready to defend himself in an instant, but the noise never came again. He held his breath hoping to draw in more sound. There it was! Someone was approaching, moving with soft steps and trying to be stealthy.
He smelled Ms. Legs’s scent before Carmen’s dim outline came into view, a curvaceous, hourglass form that left no doubt in his mind regarding the identity of the nocturnal visitor. “Oh,” she cooed. “You’re awake, Commander.”
Before Jack could respond, she stood beside the cot, gently touching his limb where the bandages bulged. “I thought I would come and check on you … make sure you weren’t developing a fever,” she lied.
“Thank you for the concern,” he whispered back, wondering why they were conversing at such a low level.
She continued to touch him, her finger tracing across his shoulder, down his arm, resting on the back of his hand. She lingered there, for a bit, finally adding, “Of course, if you did have any sort of fever, I could probably provide an effective treatment.”
To say that Jack was taken aback by the approach would have been an understatement. Still, she smelled wonderful and was an extremely attractive woman. Just in time to thwart temptation, a vision of Mylie entered his mind, instantly popping the lust balloon.
Carmen seemed to sense his mental withdrawal and backed off. “Seriously, Commander, I am glad you’re awake. I wanted to talk with you for a moment … while prying ears enjoyed a few Zs.”