by Shoshi
of this wild guy who lives up there on the ridge, spends most of his time in that cave. That’s what everyone calls him. Roquefort. He’s a loner, too.”
“What’s he looking for?” asked Amos.
“Who knows?’ said Deeter as if to say: “Who cares?”
“Well, here’s what I heard,” said Bill. “A caver told me he’s searching for somebody--a relative who got lost in the caves. Searching for years, he said.”
“Searching for a dead body, I guess,” said the bartender. He smiled and shook his head.
“Why’s he called Roquefort?” asked Joel.
“He smells like the cheese,” said Bill.
“Stinks,” said Deeter. “He never bathes.”
“He also farts,” said Bill. “Constantly.” They all laughed.
“Tell you one thing,” said Bill. “The guy knows caving, knows Slater’s inside and out. They say he’s got a degree. Likes to quote Homer.”
“Homer? Who’s that?” Deeter frowned as he asked the question.
“One of those old-time Greeks,” said his friend. “Not much good it did him. Maybe you can borrow some gear from him if you can find him. Oh, and he’s big---like an NFL lineman. A lineman and a half.” He turned to grin at his partner. “Just be careful. He’s sort of weird.”
“Got to go,” said Joel. What he needed from them now were directions to the cave.
They seemed a little reluctant to provide them but finally gave him vague pointers about a dirt road that went uphill. “There’s a sign for the trail,” said Bill. “Was one. Somebody said it got knocked down.”
“You can’t just walk into Slater’s anymore,” said Deeter. “They posted a cop to keep people out---specially kids.”
“That means you, Joel,” said his partner. “Don’t know how you’ll get in there.”
“A cop?” said Joel. He couldn’t hide his disappointment.
“It’s probably Jack,” said Amos. “There’s no way that guy’s going to guard a hole in the ground at this hour.”
“I suppose,” said Bill smiling. “Too bad about all this. I hear the mayor was hoping to turn Slater’s into a tourist attraction. Not much chance of that now if they can’t find Bryan, and the word gets out there’s a body in there somewheres.”
“That’s bad?” asked Jeeter. He sounded contemptuous.
“What about the new cave system?” asked Joel. “The one they just discovered. How do I get into that?”
There was silence. “Got no idea,” said Bill. “Is that what your brother was looking for?”
He sounded a lot less friendly talking about the new caves, thought Joel. “I don’t know for sure,” he said, which was true.
“Listen, young fellah,” said Deeter gruffly. “Slater’s a dangerous place for someone who doesn’t cave. Don’t kid yourself. I’d stay out of there if I was you.”
“He’s right,” said Amos. “I heard the new caves have a sinkhole that’s a thousand feet deep. Don’t want to fall into that.”
“Thanks for the warning,” said Joel. He noticed a big flashlight behind the bar by the sink. “Can I borrow that?” he asked.
Amos hesitated. “You’ll bring it back?”
“I promise.”
“In time for Christmas?” said Bill. He was laughing. “Is it waterproof, Amos?”
“Oh, yeah. I wouldn’t lend it to him if it wasn’t.”
Deeter was not laughing. He called after Joel sharply as he headed for the front door. “I’m telling you, kid. Stay out of it! You don’t belong in there!” He hesitated for half a second. “A lot of bad things could happen to you.”
Joel found himself getting a little ticked off at this Deeter character. Who was he to tell him to stay out of the cave? He turned and said emphatically: “I’m going down. If I can find him, I’ll pull him out.”
“Dead or alive, huh?” said Deeter. His contempt for a non-caver was obvious.
“Hey, Deeter, take it easy,” said Bill. “It’s his brother.”
“Stay out of this, Bill. If he wants to pretend he’s a grownup, he’ll have to act like one.”
Joel hesitated. The guy was being deliberately nasty, but he realized it wasn’t worth tangling with him. He had to get going. “Thanks, Amos, for the flashlight,” he said and closed the door behind him.
The night air was crisp and carried a hint of wood smoke. A touch of winter hanging on in June. He looked up at the bright, nearly full moon and took a sharp, deep breath. There were so many stars, many more than you saw further south in New England. He swung his bike out and hopped onto it. Suddenly, he saw Amos, the bar- tender, standing nearby in the dark.
“Want your flashlight back?” he asked. He figured Amos had changed his mind about lending it to him.
“No, keep it. You’ll need it.” He paused as though he were having trouble finding the words. “Listen, Joel, I don’t want you to get hurt. When Deeter told you to stay out of that cave, he meant it. He’s a tough character. I wouldn’t cross him.” He hesitated. “You know, Deeter was one of the guys the mayor sent down to look for Bryan. Don’t know why he didn’t tell you.” He lowered his voice. “I’d think twice, man, about going too deep into Slater’s.”
“Doesn’t sound like he looked that hard,” said Joel.
Amos said nothing. He turned around quickly and headed back to his bar.
It was a long slog and all uphill. It didn’t help riding along on dirt. It was always slower than pavement. Bill had told him to look out for a stream crossing under the road because the sign, if it was still there, would come soon after. He saw the stream but not the sign. He kept on biking until he knew he had gone too far, then, turned around and started biking downhill. It sure was easier.
Now he saw a gap in the bushes so he stopped, dumped his bike in the weeds and started poking around with the bartender’s flashlight. Not too bright, he thought. Probably wouldn’t last long in that cave. And, then, he caught sight of it, a faded, broken sign lying under some bushes. He could dimly make out the name “Slater’s.”
He biked down the road another hundred feet and hid the bike deep in the scrub. Why did he bother to hide it? he wondered. If somebody found his bike in this part of the state, they’d probably post signs on the trees. That’s how people were around here.
He pulled his windbreaker free from the handlebars along with his duffle and started to hike toward the cave. It wasn’t exactly a trail, more like a memory of one. But the sky was brightening just a hair, which made it easier to follow--until the trail abruptly stopped. He was standing now at the edge of a clearing in the forest, and there was no sign of a cave. Also, no sign of Jack, the village cop.
He’d been kind of expecting an imposing cave entrance with a yawning portal leading mysteriously into the ridge—more like the cave he and Bryan had explored. Instead, all there was was a narrow, horizontal cleft between boulders just inside the clearing---like a den a bear might hole up in. Lots of footprints, though, and a couple of dented green cans of soda. This must be it, he figured. Well, he was here to check it out so he sat down on the edge of the cleft and began easing himself into the cave.
He felt a familiar pang of fear, the sensation he always felt going into dark, tight places. Also, an eerie strangeness as he realized this was probably where Bryan had gone into Slater’s five days ago. He had likely sat on the same ledge of rock before moving off into the blackness beyond. He also thought about Roquefort. Was he in here somewhere? The idea of running into him in the dark made him nervous. Would he try to mess with him? He guessed he’d get plenty of warning. The guy stunk, they said.
He also thought about this guy Deeter, the one Amos had warned him about---the guy with the sneer. Why did he want him to stay out of Slater’s? It was none of his damn business---but he’d just as soon not run into him either.
(FOUR)
He slithered dow
nward about a hundred feet along a narrow, rock-strewn pathway into darkness. He remembered Amos’ flashlight and turned it on. It had a good, wide beam, but he could see it was starting to fade. Now the magic that Bryan was always talking about began to reveal itself, the mysterious feeling of entering an unknown world. He was inside a small cavern surrounded by steep rock walls. The air smelled really pungent and damp. Not exactly bad, though. Kind of exotic. In fact, he rather liked it. It was chilly but not cold enough to zip up his jacket.
Something seemed to fly by him as though an unknown cave creature had flung something at him. He heard what must be wings whooshing by him. It came to him suddenly. Bats! He swept the flashlight across the ceiling, and there they were—hundreds of them hanging upside down, their wings folded against them like small black umbrellas. The ones not sleeping stared back at him through tiny eyes. Now and then one would drop down and fly off.
He thought about Bryan taking in the same scene. Probably old familiar stuff for him. He had been in so many caves. What direction would he have gone in? The cavern definitely seemed to have more than one passage leading out of it. He walked, or rather stumbled, over uneven ground toward one exit that looked promising. But the shadows had fooled him. He proceeded a few feet into a side-cave—and it ended. No more cave. Just walls.
He tried hiking in the opposite direction. The walls seemed to move in on him as the passage got narrower, and he figured it would be another dead end.