Three

by Shoshi

the cavers’ physical description to a T--with one exception. Yeah, he smelled but not all that bad really, Joel thought.

  “Not as smelly as they told you, right?” Now he was smiling a curious sort of half smile—as one side of his mouth turned up, and the other side stayed the same. It made Joel wonder if he was really smiling at all. “It’s true, I don’t bathe that often, but after a while the smell sort of settles down and stays reasonable.” He took a sighing breath. “Not fair, of course, but they call me Roquefort anyway. Now about your offer of a candy bar for gear. As the poet says, ‘hunger is insolent and will be fed.’ But before I help you out, I have to know more.”

  He stood there on the edge of the pothole with his arms akimbo, a large leather bag slung over one shoulder. Along with being big, Joel noted, he had a vast belly that seemed to swim from side to side when he moved. “What in the name of Jehoshaphat are you doing down here?” he said. “Without proper gear.”

  “Well, where’s your gear?” Joel asked defiantly. This guy certainly wasn’t outfitted like other cavers. He wore a small helmet with an LED light on it perched on his head, but that was it. And was this poet he said he was quoting Homer?

  “My gear’s in here,” said Roquefort, patting the bag on his shoulder. “In my magic bag—along with my wizard’s hat.”

  Joel debated for a long moment whether he should be telling this odd-ball guy the truth. But, hey, he was the one who did have proper gear or so he said, and he probably had information about every twist and turn in Slater’s Cave. What’s more he’d just saved his life. “I’m looking for my twin. His name is---”

  “He’s down here, too?” Roquefort seemed quite taken aback.

  So Joel had to tell him the whole sad story, that Bryan had gear, that he was a real caver, that he was lost or maybe injured somewhere in the cave, that Joel was going to find him or else. “Even if he’s—”

  “Dead.” Roquefort nodded grimly. The big man stared closely at Joel. “You two clowns are probably the most irresponsible people I ever heard about,” he said. “Also, obdurate, perhaps, even pertinacious. Do I want to loan my gear to the likes of you?” He stood there mulling it over—or was he just pretending to?

  This fellow definitely had an education, thought Joel as he tried to remember what “pertinacious” meant. “It means stubborn,” said the big guy. Then, he asked: “How many Mars Bars do you have?”

  “A lot,” said Joel. “I also have Milky Ways, protein bars and trail mix.”

  “Milky Ways? I guess you’re better prepared than I thought.” Roquefort made a noise between a snort and a cough. “All I’ve got is beef jerky.” He stroked a hand slowly downward over his darkly bushy beard as though he were giving something a lot of thought. “I am deeply moved by your mournful tale,” he said. He was obviously being more than a little sarcastic. “But I can’t trust any of my very valuable equipment to you. So---” He paused, frowning deeply, and Joel’s heart sank. It sounded like this guy wasn’t going to lend him any gear at all.

  Roquefort’s stroking hand had come to the end of his beard. “So--I will have to come with you to keep an eye on it.”

  Joel couldn’t believe his ears. “Come with me? You will?” It seemed far too good to be true, and, then, he couldn’t stop himself from asking: “Why? You don’t even know—”

  “I told you once. Do I have to tell you again? I like you. And, by the way, forget Roquefort. Call me Roke. Have you heard me fart? No,” he answered the question himself. “Superb self-control. That’s all it takes.” He smiled that funny-looking half a smile again. “Now let’s get going.”

  It was truly amazing how well Roke knew Slater’s Cave and all its arbitrary wanderings and rock-lined passages. He moved so fast Joel could barely keep up. He would stop and peer down dizzying crevasses spraying his LED light around like a garden hose. Every now and then he’d yell something like “Yo-o!!,” and his deep voice would reverberate eerily off the cave walls, sending the yell back over and over. “Like a lost soul moaning in hell,” he said cheerily. “What’s your twin’s name again?”

  “I never said,” Joel called out to him. “It’s Bryan.”

  “That doesn’t shout very well. Joel’s better,” said Roke.

  “Well, we do look alike,” said Joel, “but he won’t answer if you don’t call him Bryan.”

  “Fancy that,” said Roke in a mocking tone.

  Joel donned the helmet Roke gave him and got a lesson in how to turn the light on and off and how to adjust it. “Look at him,” he said. “Looks like half a caver already. Well, half of a half.”

  “How far in are we now?” said Joel.

  “Oh, three, four miles I’d guess. Twice as far as that phony search crew got.”

  “You mean---?” Joel was shocked. “The search team told people they’d gone in seven or eight miles.” It made it seem all the more possible that they might have missed Bryan.

  “Most of these guys are phonies and liars,” said Roke. “The town pays them by the hour. It’s easy money. That creep Deeter gets most of the work. He’s the mayor’s second cousin. He hires his buddies.”

  Joel described the Deeter he’d met in Amos’ bar.

  “Yeah, that’s him,” said Roke. “A deep down nasty SOB.”

  “How about his friend Bill?

  “Nah, Bill’s all right.”

  “How come he wanted me to stay out of here?” asked Joel

  “I thought he was going to mess with me—just because I said I was going in.”

  Roke didn’t answer right away. “It’s complicated,” he said, “but I suppose you might as well know.” He stopped and sat down on a slab of limestone. “He’s an Indian—a very small part of him is. He and his buddies think Slater’s belongs to them. They don’t like anybody else coming in here. They’re angry that I’m here. Especially Deeter.”

  “Why’s that? You’re not bothering anybody.”

  Joel thought Roke was about to tell him why, but he seemed to change his mind. Instead, his mood darkened, and he fell silent. “You ask too many questions,” he said. “Just shut up for a while.”

  Now it was Joel’s turn to fall quiet. It was insulting to be told to shut up, but he wasn’t going to press it. He figured Roke was probably afraid Joel might ask some questions he didn’t want to answer. And, then, something very unexpected happened that explained a whole lot of things.

  They were traveling along the broken floor of a cavern in silence when suddenly Roke tumbled to the ground. It was a heavy, clumsy fall. Joel could hardly believe it when he saw it---the big man seemed so agile and quick everywhere else they went in Slater’s. He sat there breathing heavily, rubbing his knees and cursing himself.

  “Sorry to hold us up,” he said.

  “It’s nothing,” said Joel. “Did you hurt yourself?”

  “I’m fine.” He glanced at Joel. “It happens too often,” he said softly. “I’m a klutz, I guess.”

  “Let’s move more slowly,” said Joel earnestly. “I mean really.”

  Roke had dropped his magic bag when he fell. It was within easy reach, but he seemed to be having trouble getting his hands on it. He kept groping around for it. An enormous realization came over Joel. The two of them stared at each other for a long, long moment.

  Yeah,” said Roke. “I’m mostly blind.”

  Joel was astonished. Blind! He couldn’t comprehend it. “But how do you--I mean you run through these caves like a deer.”

  “I know them pretty well,” said Roke. He grinned ruefully.

  “Except sometimes I get cocky.”

  “But you’ve been beaming that light around like you can see everything. If you can’t, why don’t you get some glasses?”

  “I tried them,” he said. “They don’t work. I’m too blind.” He stopped to yell Bryan’s name into the dark again. “It’s okay. Blurs are enough. B
lurs and shadows. They’re all I need to see my way.” He thought about it. “In the dark of a cave we’re all equal.”

  Joel understood it now. This must be the reason why Roke had become a caver and spent so much time underground. This was the world he felt at ease in. He felt a great wave of sympathy for him. They started on their way again. After a minute or two the big guy made a sudden move, bending over and thrusting his hand into a crack in a rock. He pulled out a small white salamander. “Can’t see him too good, but he can’t see me at all. That’s because he’s 100% blind. Lot of critters down here like that. I heard him, though.”

  Joel was amazed. He had heard nothing. “Blind guys hear better than you,” said Roke. “Most of them.” He put the salamander back in its crack. “It’s another thing that helps even things out.”

  “Except for one thing, Roke.” Joel debated whether or not he wanted to admit this to the big guy. It had been on his mind.

  “What’s that?”

  “One thing isn’t even. How come you’re always so cool down here—and I’m, well—”

  “Scared?” Roke chuckled quietly.

  “Yeah, I guess that’s me.” Roke was never afraid. How did he do it?

  Roke peered hard at him. “You’re giving in to it. Don’t. Simple as that.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.” He pointed to his head. “This is the boss. Never forget it.”

  “Okay,” said Joel. Not exactly the magic answer he was hoping to hear, but clearly it was