by Ike Hamill
“Oh, no,” Florida whispered. Roger’s light sparkled on the halves of her brain. The cut went right down her spine.
Roger stepped around her on one side, Florida on the other.
Florida bent to pick up the woman’s helmet. She dropped it quickly and wiped her hands on her pants. The helmet had been split as well. Battery acid leaked from the bisected headlamp. As she stood back up, Florida’s headlamp flickered and then finally went out. She was now at the mercy of Roger’s lamp, and the man was moving on. Florida rushed to catch up.
At the next intersection, they took a right. Roger stepped carefully over a severed arm. Florida didn’t take any time to investigate it. Her head was already full of disgusting images. She didn’t need any more.
Dr. Grossman was surrounded by papers. She held a clipboard to her chest. Florida couldn’t see any wounds on the woman, but her eyes were open and lifeless. Her chest didn’t rise and fall with breath. Roger nudged Dr. Grossman’s foot with his shoe and she didn’t react.
Static burst from a radio on the floor and Florida almost ran. She reminded herself that she would be sprinting into the darkness.
“The entrance has to be close,” Roger whispered.
“Who did this?” Florida asked.
Roger shook his head. “More like ‘What.’”
-o-o-o-o-o-
They stood as Roger played his light over the black rectangle.
His eyes moved to Florida and then back to the end of the tunnel.
“That’s the exit,” Florida said.
Roger shook his head. “Not anymore.”
“We should at least try to leave,” Florida said.
“We’ll flip a coin,” Roger said. “Loser tries to walk through that blackness to see if we can get out. Maybe it’s just camouflage, you know? Maybe we can just walk right through.”
“Maybe,” Florida said. Her eyes turned back to the bodies. They had walked by a pile of corpses to get to the mine’s exit. Some of the people were students who Florida knew pretty well.
“That Carlos guy always keeps his eyes closed, right? Maybe if we keep our eyes closed,” Roger said.
“Call it,” Florida said. She had a quarter in her hand. Roger’s light tracked it as she flipped it up in the air.
“Tails,” he said.
She caught the coin and smacked it down on the back of her hand. She lifted her hand slowly. It was tails.
“I’ll go,” he said.
“No,” she said.
Florida started walking. Behind her, Roger’s light shifted as he moved to the wall of the tunnel. Her shadow stretched out ahead of her, meeting the black curtain that separated her from the outside world. As she approached, she remembered the haggard old man from the mine—Carlos. She closed her eyes.
-o-o-o-o-o-
Roger watched as Florida walked. He hated himself for his own cowardice. It should have been him walking into danger. Then again, the evidence of the mine’s danger was all around him. Maybe it was more brave to stay there with the corpses while Florida took a shot at getting out of the damn mine. It was impossible to know the correct course of action.
She slowed as she approached. Her hand went up. Roger guessed that she had closed her eyes. It might not mean anything, but Carlos seemed to be a survivor, and it was the strategy that he employed.
The darkness that was stretched across the mine’s exit seemed to envelop her. She was walking into a curtain of tar. Roger held his breath as her final step took her into blackness. The back of her shoe was the last thing to disappear. Florida didn’t make a sound.
As he watched, the black curtain began to grow a little brighter. Points of light poked through from the back and Roger realized that he was seeing out to the night sky.
He ran forward. His light picked up something shiny on the floor of the mine. Roger realized that it was Florida’s headlamp. He jumped over it and kept moving.
As he passed beneath the rock overhang, Roger emerged to the desert night. The world opened up around him in a vast expanse.
He skidded to a stop when he realized that someone was standing there under the stars.
Roger’s light hit the old man’s face. His eyes were closed.
“One stays to keep the secrets,” Carlos said.
Roger scanned the terrain with his light, looking for Florida. “Did you see my friend come through here?”
“Everyone else becomes part of us,” Carlos said.
Roger stepped to the side to get around Carlos. “I thought you said there was no way out.”
Despite his closed eyes, Carlos reached out an arm and settled his hand on Roger’s shoulder. Roger ducked from under the hand.
“Goodbye,” Carlos said.
Carlos started walking forward, towards the entrance of the mine. Roger didn’t stick around to see what happened. Instead, he began to run towards where the bus was parked. The helmet bounced from his head as he rounded the corner. The light shut off as it hit the ground, but Roger could still see fairly well by the moonlight.
The bus wasn’t there.
Roger kept running. He pointed himself down the road and settled into a fast jog as he tried to master his breathing. He wasn’t cut out for jogging, but he was going to do his best. He slowed even more as the road crested a small hill.
Florida’s name came to his lips, but he held back on yelling for her. If she made it out, she would be fine. She was a survivor. Now that he was outside, he wasn’t going to waste any time looking for her or anyone.
Roger slowed to a fast walk as he rounded a corner. His panting breath tasted sour in the back of his throat. Any more running and he would start to throw up.
There was a person standing in the middle of the road. He recognized Carlos by smell this time.
“You’re like a bad penny,” Roger said. He spat to the side.
“One stays to keep the secrets,” Carlos said.
“Good luck with that,” Roger said. His legs were twitching and hot, but he found the strength to sprint around Carlos and continue down the road. When he glanced back, Carlos was gone. Roger began to wonder if maybe Carlos was just in his head. Maybe he was feeling guilty about leaving Florida behind and Carlos was his brain’s attempt to exorcise that demon.
He saw him, standing at the crest of the next hill.
Chapter Fifty — Escape
KRISTIN SPIT OUT THE dirt that fell in her face. She wiped sand from her eyes and jabbed the sharp end of the crowbar up into the darkness. His hand reached for the flashlight that she had wedged into the frame of the Jeep.
Kristin kicked at the hand.
“Ow!” Travis said. “Fuck. You kicked me.”
“Get your own damn light,” she said. “I need this one.” She stabbed up into the dirt again. More of it spilled down.
“It’s impossible. You’re never going to dig your way out. It’s solid rock above us,” Travis said. “But I see a passage. We can find our way out.”
“Fuck passages,” Kristin said. A clump of dirt came down. She dodged back and managed to avoid it hitting her face, but a bunch of sand went down the front of her shirt. She ignored it and kept tearing at the soil above. Her arms were getting tired.
“I can’t find any other lights in there,” Travis said.
“Then you can explore in the dark. It’s going to be the same result either way,” she said. When the next clod of dirt fell, Kristin was digging at the end of her reach. There was only a narrow column of dirt—the rest was all hard rock. She needed something more to stand on if she was going to dig much higher.
“It has to go somewhere,” Travis said. “Carlos had to have come from somewhere.”
“Good luck. You’re not taking my light.”
Travis reached for it again and she swung without thinking. The crowbar hit him in the forearm and gave a hollow ring.
“Fuck!” he said. He withdrew and disappeared back inside the Jeep.
Kristin found a loose rock in the wall. She man
aged to knock it out and rolled it into position. She stood on top of the rock and got a little more height so she could continue her digging.
Travis reappeared from the back of the Jeep.
“I found this candle. Trade me a candle for the flashlight,” he said.
“No,” she said.
“Come on. You’re staying in one place. A candle would work fine for you.”
“Why don’t you help me dig? Are you allergic to work? Are you so lazy that you won’t dig to save yourself?” she asked. More dirt came down into her mouth. She spat it to her side.
“Why are you so convinced that you’re going to be able to dig your way out of this? You didn’t help me when my leg was pinned, why the hell should I help you with your stupid digging? I’m going to find whichever way Carlos went and go that way.”
“Don’t you get it?” Kristin screamed. “He’s not trying to get out. Something changed about Carlos. I could see if from twenty feet away. If we hadn’t slowed down to avoid hitting him, we would be out of here by now. Whatever is trying to keep us down here, Carlos is helping it.”
“No way,” Travis said. “I don’t believe that.”
He began fumbling with the matches.
“Don’t light that here,” Kristin said. “There’s gasoline everywhere. Can’t you smell it?”
“Then give me the flashlight,” he said.
“No.”
Travis climbed slowly until he was standing directly over the Jeep’s gas tank. Kristin stopped digging and picked up the flashlight. She pointed it at him. Travis had taken out one of the matches and was holding it against the striker.
“You give me that flashlight or I’ll drop a match right on this gas.”
The tank was cracked or there was a hole punched in it. Gas had been leaking from it since she had climbed out. There was no telling how much had pooled on the rocks below them.
“Don’t do it,” she said.
He held out his hand.
Kristin glanced once more at the dirt above her and then back to Travis. The flashlight picked up hints of madness in his eyes. She wasn’t eager to find out how much chaos that madness would bring.
She handed over the light.
“Thank you,” he said. He tossed the matches and they bounced off her chest and fell down into the upside-down workings of the Jeep.
Travis tucked the flashlight under his arm and began his clumsy climb down from the Jeep.
“Don’t leave, Travis. We can dig our way out. We didn’t fall that far. It can’t be much farther to the surface.”
He was already climbing over rocks and leaving the scene. The taillights from the Jeep gave the cave somewhat of a red glow. The hole above her was just black. She looked at the crowbar in her hands. She might have hit him with it again. She might have knocked the flashlight from his hands. But she suspected he wouldn’t get far. He would be back and they would dig their way out together.
She watched for a few seconds as the flashlight wound around another rock and then disappeared down a side passage.
“Good luck,” she whispered.
She jabbed upwards with the crowbar and another cascade of dirt and sand tumbled down.
Chapter Fifty-One — Confrontation
“ONE STAYS TO KEEP the secrets,” Carlos said as Roger approached.
“You said that already. How do you keep appearing? Are you a dream? Are you a figment of my imagination?”
“We’ve been together forever,” Carlos said. “We feed each other. It’s your turn to take my place.”
“Get out of my way,” Roger said. His anger rose. There was something smug about the way that Carlos kept his eyes shut. It was the ultimate form of disrespect.
Carlos shook his head. “One stays.”
Roger advanced on the man. Carlos opened his mouth to speak again and Roger hit him. He planted both hands on Carlos’s chest and shoved. Carlos never saw it coming.
His stringy gray hair flew as Carlos stumbled back. His feet tangled and he fell to the gravel road. Roger landed on top of him. Roger punched down at the old man, bashing his rotten teeth. Carlos still didn’t open his eyes. Roger clasped his hands around Carlos’s throat and began to squeeze. In the moonlight, he saw Carlos smile.
Roger grew even angrier.
In an effort to knock the smile from Carlos’s face, Roger lifted the old man’s neck and slammed it down into the gravel. He repeated, again and again, but Carlos still smiled. Roger yelled out his rage. His fist closed and he raised it. Roger beat the man’s face and then closed his fingers around his throat. He squeezed until it seemed that his own bones would snap from the effort.
The smile on Carlos’s face began to disappear. The old mans eyes finally began to open. Roger leaned forward to make contact. Carlos didn’t focus on him. His eyes were glassy and unresponsive. Roger moved even closer. He took his hands away from Carlos’s throat and had to pull them from the sand. His hands had sunk in during the choking.
Carlos wheezed. The gentle sound turned into a breathy laugh. Carlos finally met his eyes.
“It’s an honor to be chosen,” Carlos said. As he finished the word, sand ran into his mouth. He tilted his head back and his face disappeared below the surface of the road.
Roger pushed himself away from Carlos, but he didn’t get far. His lower legs had sunk down into the sand, along with Carlos’s body. Roger clawed at the road surface, trying to free himself, but the sand gripped him and dragged him deeper. He was being absorbed by the road.
Roger placed his hands down and pushed. He tried to roll on his side to get more surface area against the sand. No matter what he did, he only sunk more. Carlos had disappeared and it felt like his body was wrapped around Roger’s legs. Carlos pulled at him like an anchor.
When Roger screamed for help, he was already buried up to his ribs. The expulsion of breath let the sand compress around his chest. He focused all his effort on trying to draw a full chestful of air. His head and arms descended quickly.
Roger was gone.
Chapter Fifty-Two — Bomb
THE HEADLIGHTS WERE BEGINNING to dim by the time that Kristin climbed down from the back of the Jeep. Travis’s candle was still sitting on the frame of the Jeep. She threw it off into the darkness and lowered herself down so she could slip through the back window. She climbed through the gas fumes, all the way to the driver’s seat where she had to turn her brain around to figure out where the controls for the headlights were. She shut off the remaining light and then turned the switch to just parking lights.
When she crawled back out, she stayed in the fume-filled rear of the Jeep long enough to paw through what was left back there. Travis had taken anything that looked like a light source. She found an old t-shirt and a plastic bottle. The shirt had soaked up some of the dripping gasoline.
Kristin sat up straight with an idea.
She grabbed her stuff and crawled out of the Jeep.
The crowbar was still sitting atop the overturned Jeep. She grabbed that and headed off in the direction that Travis had gone. It was tough going after she left the red glow of the taillights. Kristin took her time. The last thing she needed was a twisted ankle.
The path narrowed quickly.
Kristin turned around frequently, making sure she still had a decent trajectory to the Jeep.
She reached a place where she was going to have to duck under a low rock. Kristin put her head through and verified that there was somewhere to go. She knelt down in the darkness and chewed the inside of her cheek as she considered her plan.
It was rash and impulsive. There wasn’t a backup plan if it went wrong. She couldn’t think of any other way.
Kristin tore the shirt and began stuffing it into the bottle. She had no idea if her idea would even work. When she got the first half in, she left a foot of t-shirt dangling from the mouth. She moved by touch—the taillights were too far away to do her any good.
Kristin found the matches in her pocket. She was about to
strike them when a horrible image streaked across her mind. She imagined her pants catching a spark. They were likely still soaked in gas from her crawl. She pictured her burning legs lighting up the last agonized moments of her life.
Kristin moved her hands away from her lap before striking the match.
The shirt burst into flames immediately. Kristin lifted the bottle carefully and used the light from the flame to illuminate her shot. When she was sure she had a sense of it, she threw the bottle towards the Jeep.
Nothing happened. She could see moving shadows. The bottle was still lit, but it was too far from the vehicle to catch.
The plan was terrible—she was willing to admit that. She hoped for some giant Hollywood explosion that would somehow blast a hole right out of this underground dungeon, but she hadn’t even managed to catch the Jeep on fire. Kristin sighed and began to crawl over the rocks so she could retrieve her bomb.
“It’s a fuse, not a bomb,” she whispered.
She crested the last rock and paused. A persistent yellow flame was burning away at the end of the bottle. It was lying on its side on one of the few flat parts of the cavern. Kristin blinked and then stared. The thing wouldn’t stay still. As the shirt burned, the rock under the bottle swelled and tilted and then shifted again. The movement was slow, but it was visible because of the moving bottle. The bottle rolled back and forth. Kristin held perfectly still and realized that she could feel the rocks grinding underneath her.
The bottle finally gained enough speed to bounce up over an edge and tumble in the direction of the Jeep. Kristin watched for a second, mesmerized, before she realized the implication.
She scrambled back over the rocks.
-o-o-o-o-o-
She crawled as deep as she could and wrapped her hands around her head. Nothing happened. She waited another minute and then crawled under the low rock. She saw the dancing flames—something had caught. It could only be a matter of time before the gas tank blew.