by Beth Martin
“Huh.” Thinking about this new information, he held his mug up to his lips and breathed in the scent of his instant coffee. It still smelled like coffee, even if it tasted like plain water. He missed the fair-trade coffee beans he bought at the small grocery in town. His PO box was also in town. How would he get his mail with the chasm in the way? Was there any way he could still get deliveries? “Shit,” he muttered.
“What?” Grace asked, raising her brows.
“How far do you think the chasm goes?”
“You don’t know?”
He scratched at his chin through his beard. “I have an idea. I wanted to hear your perspective.”
“It’s not a perspective,” she said, setting her coffee down on the ground set to her and pulling the sleeping bag tight. “It’s a fact. The chasm spans half of Colorado, from Interstate 70 to Interstate 76.”
“That’s what the newspaper said―”
“Because that’s how it is. The Denver Times had pictures taken by drones of the entire chasm, from beginning to end, on their website.”
“When did you get a chance to check their website?”
“When we were at Best Buy and you were busy purchasing a new laptop, I Googled news articles on the earthquake while I waited.”
She picked up her mug and drained the last few drops of coffee, then said, “We should get to work.” She got up and disappeared into her tent, Peter’s sleeping bag still wrapped around her.
He shook his head. How had Dr. Hall been so wrong? Did he know something that Peter didn’t?
CHAPTER NINE
It was like they had traveled back in time to the summer as Peter and Grace quickly descended down the dark well. Peter couldn’t tell if Grace kept so close to him because of a growing affection or simply the cold.
This time he’d remembered to bring a flashlight. Grace had also grabbed the camping lantern.
Their feet landed softly on the wet shale. The only sound was that of water trickling down the well. Peter unclipped their harnesses and walked to the edge of the pool of standing water.
“Stay back.” He lowered his arm to the water and carefully touched the back of his hand to the surface. If he felt any sort of tingling, then there was electrical current flowing through the water. Luckily, however, it felt normal. “It should be safe.”
She turned on her lantern and looked around. “There’s no water over there,” she said, pointing to the area where all the recording equipment was located. “We should move our camp down here. That’s the whole idea behind geothermal habitation, right?”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea, at least not until we know more about the earthquakes.” He stepped into the water and slowly waded over to the generator. “Let me check out the battery.”
“All right. I’ll go collect data from the equipment and have a look around.”
“Just don’t go too far,” he warned.
With a sly smile, she asked, “Aw, are you worried about me?” She gave him a wink before carefully walking around the water’s edge.
Peter went over to the battery and shined his light on it. The terminals were eroded. Next, he turned his attention to the components of the generator. He disconnected the pipe which pumped water down and illuminated the inside using his flashlight. It was completely blocked with rocks and sediment. It needed a new pipe; there would be no way to clear this one out.
Then he checked the water in line. This one must have burst during the earthquake and flooded the cavern. Water continued to trickle out of the gaping hole, following a shallow stream toward the well.
“Dr. Cork!” Grace shouted. “Come look at this.”
“Be right there,” he called back. One last glance confirmed that the generator was broken beyond repair. He glanced around and found her several hundred feet ahead. Her lantern lit the cavern, which stretched almost endlessly, making the low ceiling of shale feel even lower.
“What am I looking at?” he asked as he caught up to her.
“Come here,” she instructed. “Stand right there. Now, close your eyes.”
He gave her a sideways glance, but did as she said, cautiously looking around before shutting his eyes.
“Let your eyes adjust to the dark. I’m going to turn off the lantern.”
The red glow of light through his eyelids disappeared, greeting him with total darkness. He could hear her feet shuffle against the ground. “Just a little longer,” she said. The complete darkness was unnerving, and the claustrophobia started to make him panic. “Open your eyes.”
He should have seen nothing but utter darkness, but somehow, he could just make out the edges of the cavern. The edges of the stone sides made pale lines in the blackness.
He widened his eyes. “There’s light.”
“Yeah,” she said excitedly. “Do you think this cavern connects to the chasm?”
“It has to.”
She turned the lantern back on, the burst of light hurting Peter’s eyes, before walking toward the well. He glanced back at the generator one last time before following her.
“I bet there’s going to be many more earthquakes. It takes an immense amount of pressure to make the earth’s crust buckle. I doubt it was all released at once.”
“Why not?” Grace asked, her voice high and thin.
“When I spoke with Dr. Hall, he indicated that the chasm was much larger than what was reported in the news. It’s not like him to be wrong. So, there’s something more about all this earthquake activity that he knows and no one else does.”
“What could be making all that pressure that’s causing the quakes?” she asked.
He looked at her, her graceful features lit from the side leaving half of her face in shadow. “I have no idea.”
···
The temperature dipped even lower the next night. As the sun set below the Rockies, the last bit of warmth left the winter air. Peter tried to make a hot meal, but it wasn’t enough to combat the cold penetrating his skin.
“You should wear more layers to sleep tonight,” he said as Grace cleaned up after their dinner. “An extra layer of clothing with an additional blanket tucked in your sleeping bag should keep you warm.”
“I thought I could just sleep with you in your tent again,” she said, not even looking up from her work. She tucked the plates and cooktop into a nylon bag and slipped them into her tent before returning outside.
“I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
She plopped back down into her folding camp chair and crossed her legs. “Why not? We did last night.”
He tried to give her a stern look, and she responded to by tilting her head and raising her brows.
“Are you afraid my father will find out and cut funding to your research? Because if so, I hate to break it to you, but…” She shrugged, then hugged herself tightly. She was starting to shiver.
Peter liked his personal space. It felt wrong being in such close proximity to another person. People never seemed to understand this, so he tried another excuse that she could agree with.
“You’re my intern. We’re both still affiliated with SLAU. It looks bad.”
She glanced down at the ground and paused for a moment. “I’m not. Not anymore.”
“What do you mean?”
She stayed quiet, a somber expression on her face. She wouldn’t look him in the eye. “I’m not an intern. Or a student. I withdrew from my classes to be here. I guess when my dad pulled funding, that also took away your ability to have an intern, so my job disappeared.”
She shifted uncomfortably before continuing. “The registrar shows that I’m not enrolled in classes or doing work toward my degree. That, along with my lackluster grades, led to me getting put on probation. If I want to take more classes, I have to wait a year before reapplying to be a student.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “That can’t be right. There must be something you can do.”
She shook her head. “I can appeal their decision,
but that would take just as long or longer.”
“Wow.” She looked up at him, her eyes glossy like she was about to cry. The earthquake had destroyed more than just the ground beneath them.
He didn’t want her to get too emotional. Taking a deep breath, he realized that she had made a pretty major sacrifice to be here and help him. He needed to make some sort of concession for her as well. “How about you bring your bag into my tent and sleep there.”
“Thank you,” she said, her lip trembling. She went into her tent and came back out with an armful of blankets. They both got settled in the same tent and fell asleep side by side.
At some point in the night the sound of a zipper woke him. Grace had crawled into his sleeping bag again and was zipping it back up. He was too groggy to react as she wrapped an arm around his waist and nuzzled her face against his chest. But this time, instead of feeling intensely uncomfortable, he simply fell back asleep.
CHAPTER TEN
Peter felt hot. Sweat formed on his back and under his arms. Grace gave a soft moan, snuggling closer as she continued to sleep. Soft light filtered in through the fabric of the tent.
He tried to tug the blanket out of his sleeping bag, but it had gotten tangled under him and around Grace during the night. He unzipped the sleeping bag and crept out.
“No,” she muttered, pulling the blanket and sleeping bag around her. She curled into a ball, refusing to accept morning had come.
Outside of the mass of blankets, the interior of the tent was still cool, but not as cold as it had been in the middle of the night. He unzipped the door and was surprised by an avalanche of snow falling into the front of the tent.
“Close that, it’s cold,” Grace said. She opened her eyes a crack, then sat up with a jolt. “Snow? We’re buried under snow?”
“It appears so,” he said, feeling around the sides of the tent for his shoes. He slipped them on and laced them tight before donning his coat. “I’m going to go check out the conditions outside.”
She curled back up. “Close the door behind you.”
The snow was between one and two feet deep. Even though they had set up their camp under the canopy which shaded the entrance to the well, the blizzard from the night before must have blown it over. There was snow covering both tents, along with Grace’s car. The well was now a perfectly circular hole in the mounds of snow. He tried to locate the chasm in the distance, but the rising sun over the snow greeted his eyes with a blindingly bright, white expanse. The wind blew, picking up bits of snow, hurling the flakes through the air.
He returned to the tent and ducked back inside.
“How’s it look out there?” Grace asked, sitting up in her piles of blankets.
“Looks like we got around eighteen inches of snow,” he said. “I think we should probably sit tight in our camp and wait out the storm.”
“It’s still snowing?”
“No, but there’s a strong wind kicking up the snow that’s already on the ground.”
“Let’s still try to climb down into the chasm today like we originally planned.”
“It’s not safe,” he said loudly, not meaning to raise his voice.
“Nothing here is safe!” she yelled. “That’s not going to stop me. We need to figure this whole thing out before Dr. Hall does.”
He clenched his jaw, trying to keep his temper in check. “It’s not a race.”
She stood up and threw the sleeping bag and blanket to the ground. “We came back for a reason. I’m not going to sit around and wait for the weather to get better.” She opened up the tent door, and they were greeted with a blast of cold wind. Turning back, she pulled the blanket off the ground and wrapped it around her shoulders before stomping off into the cold.
He closed the door behind her, hoping that she would quickly come to her senses and return. He waited as he heard sounds of Grace rummaging in the other tent and the clinking of metal pieces from the climbing harness, followed by the crunching of snow under her feet.
He held out hope that she would turn back, but her footsteps gradually grew fainter. Going out in this weather was insane, but going alone was even worse. He put on an extra layer and his outer coat.
Even dressing as fast as he could, when he stepped out of the tent Grace was already far in the distance. If he had to trudge through the snow, he wished they could have at least waited until after eating a hot breakfast and drinking some coffee first. Peter trekked as fast as he could to catch up.
“Grace!” he called out, not sure she was aware of him following her.
“You decided to join me?” she called back, slowing down to give him a chance to reach her.
“This is insane,” he yelled over the wind.
“I don’t care,” she called back, hugging her arms around her body as she continued to push forward. Losing her balance, she fell into the snow.
He tried to run to her. “Are you okay?” he asked. He was about to help her to her feet, but she held out a hand to stop him.
“I lost my shoe,” she said.
“I’ll find it,” he said, digging through the snow to search for the boot. He grabbed it from deep in the snow and handed it back.
She slipped her gloves off, then untied the knots in her shoelaces. Once undone, she slipped the shoe on and tried to tighten the laces, but her hands were stiff as she fumbled with her boots.
“My fingers are too cold,” she said. “I can’t get it tied.”
Peter pulled his own gloves off and helped her lace up her shoe. “Grace, this is insanity. There’s no way we can safely climb down the chasm in this weather. We need to head back to camp.”
“I know.” She lowered her head. Her hair and hat were covered in a dusting of snow, as was Peter’s hat and beard. More snow started coming down from the gray sky. “Where is the chasm?” she asked, looking around. “Shouldn’t we be there by now?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted. Looking back, he could see the path they had taken, their footprints deep in the snow leading back to the few little snow dunes which marked their camp. He looked north toward where the RV had been, but couldn’t see far enough.
As he strained, trying to find any distinguishing feature in the terrain, Grace started walking ahead, away from their camp.
“Grace, stop,” he said, attempting to catch her. He tried to grab onto her arm, but she slipped from his grasp and kept walking. She clearly hadn’t heard him. He reached for her arm again, and this time she stopped, but not before he lost his balance.
The snow cushioned him as he fell forward, the cold stinging the exposed skin of his face. The snow made a crunching sound before giving way underneath him, and Peter found himself falling. They had located the chasm.
He plunged downward along with drifts of snow into the dark abyss. Flailing, he tried to get a grip of the sides of the chasm, but the icy rock was too slick to hold onto. He could hear Grace shrieking, “Dr. Cork,” from above, but couldn’t catch his breath enough to say anything.
Not far down, the chasm walls quickly closed together. His body slammed into the rock and got stuck between the two sides. His left ankle was firmly wedged between two protruding rocks, and his torso was squeezed from both sides of the chasm.
He was alive.
Thankfully, nothing hurt. He would be okay. Grace’s panicked voice continued to shout his name from thirty feet above as melting snow trickled down the rocky sides and seeped into the fabric of his coat.
“I’m all right,” he called. “But I’m stuck.”
Grace’s face, rosy from the cold, peered down at him. “Dr. Cork? Oh my God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Just help me out,” he called, interrupting her.
“Right,” she yelled. “I brought the climbing gear. I’ll send down a harness.”
“No harness, just rope.” His coat already felt heavy and cumbersome from the water soaking in. He tried to move his leg and pull up his left foot, but it wouldn’t budge.
&
nbsp; Grace anchored the rope and threw down both ends. He couldn’t squeeze his arms down to reach his waist, so he looped the rope around his chest and started to pull on the other end. He could feel his torso move away from the rock, but he couldn’t get his boot free.
“My foot is stuck,” he yelled.
“Can you get your shoe off?” she asked.
He pulled his foot up again, turning his ankle in an attempt to wiggle his shoe off. Now he regretted tying the laces in a double knot. “I can’t reach it to get it untied,” he replied.
“Maybe I can,” Grace said.
“No, it’s too tight.”
“I’m smaller than you,” she said. “I’ll be able to reach your foot. At least let me try.”
His body was starting to be overtaken by shivering. He hadn’t noticed the cold until now, but suddenly cold was all he could feel. He tried to reply, but couldn’t make out the words between tremors.
“Okay, I’m coming down,” she called. What felt like an eternity lapsed as she put on a harness and anchored another rope before climbing down to Peter. “Which foot is stuck?” she asked as she came closer.
He leaned his head to the left, and she climbed down on that side. “Wow, it’s really tight down here,” she remarked. She slid even lower until her torso was also firmly pinned between the two sides, then reached down with her right hand to get to his shoes.
She pulled her glove off with her teeth and began fumbling with the shoelaces. “I can’t get it untied,” she said, her voice high and panicked.
His chattering teeth made talking difficult. “Just cut them.”
“I don’t have a knife.”
“I’ve got one.” He always kept a pocket knife on hand. His shaking was so bad, he couldn’t get his hand into his pocket. “I can’t… I can’t.” He paused, trying to catch his breath, the shivering taking over.
“Where is it? I’ll get it for you,” she said firmly.
“Right,” He gasped, trying to hold his muscles tight and stop the shivering. His whole body was wet and freezing, and his fingers started to feel numb.
Grace climbed up and over Peter and came down on the other side, then checked his pockets. She felt in his jacket pocket, commenting, “Your coat is all torn up,” before reaching in his pants and finding the knife. She climbed around him again, slipped the blade under his shoe laces, and sliced them off.