Shadow Cave (13 page)

The
thickest cluster of brush
seemed to be the best choice so I approached it
and knelt down.
N
othing in
my pack
would
be use
ful
for digging
, so I simply gripped the earth with both hands and pulled hard.

Digging the hole took longer than I expected.
It was nearly midnight when I stood and brushed grimy hands across my denim
-
clad thighs.
I covered the area as thoroughly as my increasingly limited time allowed.
There, that should do
, I nodded in approval.
I was covered in dirt, but at least I didn
’
t have to involve innocent bystanders in the mess I was in.
The way I figured, a little dirt was a small price to pay for such peace of mind.

I tossed my pack over my shoulder and stretched my arms to the sky.
Rolling my shoulders back in a quick stretch I told myself to get a move on.
There was still a lot of ground to cover.

It was the tenth mile that did it, I lamented
, dropping
to the hard ground and
trying
in vain to stretch the ache out of my legs.
I was tired, hungry, and in pain
, and very
certain that if I took another step my feet were going to fall off.
The
cold sandwich
was fished
out of my pack
and
ravished in record
time
before being washed down
with the last of my now warm water.
I sighed and took another bite.
Was it too much to hope
that wherever I ended up had water
?
Alternate universes had water, didn
’
t they?
Maybe there would be a Starbucks.
A nice hotel and a bubble bath would be welcomed too.

R
ocky hills surrounded me
as
my back twisted from side to side
.
The cave
sh
ould be
close, I knew.
I took the maps out, unfolded one, and spread it over my lap.
The light breeze in the night air rustled the thin paper
,
and I took the smaller of the two flashlights and put it between my teeth
in order to
see.
Tracing the path I
’
d
been wa
l
king
,
my
fingernail
tapped the spot marked as the general ending area.
Yes, I was getting close
...
very
close.

I folded the map and tucked it under my leg on the ground.
The other two were more detailed.
One was about three years old, while the other had been torn from a book.
It was a copy of an old sketch of the area that I had found with the rest of Mike
’
s things.
Once again I
marvelled
at how similar the images were to one another.

“
Amazing
,
”
I breathed.
“
Truly amazing.
”
I clicked the switch on the small penlight to
‘
off
’
and stood up.
According to the maps, I had a mile, if that, to go.
I scanned the horizon carefully.
There
, just
over that ridge
.
I hastily gathered the rest of
my
gear and started off at a brisk pace towards the ridge up ahead.

An hour later
my lungs were protesting
and my previous aches
—
plus several new ones
—
were making themselves known again.
Every
discomfort was swiftly forgotten
when I reached
the
top of the hill.
The scene that stood tall and majestic before me was breathtakingly beautiful.
I braced my hands on my thighs and leaned over, catching my breath and laughing at the same time.
God, I made it and I
’
m
here
, was all I could think for a triumphant moment
,
grinning like a fool.
Checking the map would have been un
n
eces
s
ary.
There was no mistaking the formation of rock in front of me.

The openings cut deep into the mountain ridge.
They were several feet apart and very wide.
Jagged
stone that looked to be quartz
rimmed the edges
.
It caught the moonlight and sparkled before me like three
diamond-rimmed
doorways.

I stood there a few more minutes before reality edged in and I realized that those gorgeous doorways were very dark.
And which one did I need to take?
I looked up at the stars and frowned as I tried to concentrate and find the pattern.
The cluster of stars that marked the path was supposed to
have
the shape of a torch.
I stared hard
, focusing
my eyes
,
then
unfocused
them again
.

“
Ah! There!
”
I exclaimed, pointing to the right.

My voice echoed in the darkness and I felt strange for a minute.
Personally, I thought it was a stretch to call it a torch.
But then again, I had never been good at
stargazing
.
Some people could look at the sky and immediately identify a particular star or constellation.
I was not one of those people.
But the more that I eyed the group of stars that hung over the opening to my right, the more certain I became.
That was definitely the one.

“
A flame to light the path
,
”
I murmured in awe, reciting the literature.

Taking a step forward
,
I quietly eased the gun from my pack, removing the safety.
Loaded and ready
, I thought grimly.
I hoped that I would have no need to use it
, but
it had occurred to me the day before that anyone John sent after me was more likely to wait until I had led them to the cave to attack.
I didn
’
t think that I had been followed, but you could never be too careful.
The ambush in my backyard was still all too fresh in my mind.
I would not take my well-being for granted, I vowed.

I edged closer to the dark opening and bit my lip when I realized my latest dilemma.
I would need light
,
and lots of it
,
to navigate the cave.
The small penlight would be of no use to me now.
I crouched down low and carefully lay the gun between my feet so that I could safely reach into my bag for the heavy
-
duty steel flashlight I carried.

I would have to hold the gun one handed
—
I might even have to use it that way, too
, if it came to that
.
Now there
’
s
a scary thought
, I considered.
A nervous woman trying to hit a moving target in the dark, one handed
,
while aiming a flashlight.
Thank God I had a steady hand
...usually
, I amended.
Working in a lab was one thing
, and
of course there was a
fair share
of pressure.
Being forced to defend your life in a matter of shaky seconds was something else entirely.
Briefly I wondered about that.
In a life or death situation, would a skilled brain surgeon have an advantage over, say, a designer?
What about an executive and an engineer?
You would think that training made a difference.
I, for one, was banking on the theory that training made all the difference in the world.
Still, I hoped I didn
’
t do something stupid like try and spot with the gun while pulling the trigger on my flashlight.

The cave was smaller than I had expected. I brushed at what I could only assume were cobwebs.
My mind registered this fact
, but it
didn
’
t make it any more believable.
Good God, those had to be the thickest spider webs I had ever seen.
They literally hung from the corners and roof of the cave, weaving a ceiling above me.
One of the thick tendrils caught my cheek and I shoved it away with my gun hand
...p
robably not the brightest thing I had ever done.
I was pretty sure if there was one thing on the list of stupid things to do that could top shooting a flashlight
,
shooting yourself in the face was it.

My face stung where the section of web had been and I was sure I would have a small scratch from it.
The heavy strand was as coarse as wire.
Normally, I was not the least bit scared of spiders.
I didn
’
t exactly like them, but
neither
did they bother me.
I spared what I swore would be my last glance at the ceiling and tried not to think about what kind of spider had made a web like that.
I could only hope I never had to find out, even though a part of me was morbidly curious.

“
All in the name of science
,
”
I muttered, crouching lower in the narrow space.
I was really starting to wonder about that motto, I reflected bitterly.

Maybe half a mile into the cave, the path split into a wide fork.
“
Well, this wasn
’
t in the notes,
”
I murmured, surprised.
So which fork did I need to take?
I swung the flashlight beam in a slow, wide arc.
The right side was a narrow doorway a little smaller than the
tunnel
around me.
The left was a three by three opening cut low to the floor of the cave.
My, wasn
’
t that a tough choice
?
I laughed to myself as I turned toward the passage to my right.
No way in hell was I crawling on my hands and knees through an abandoned tunnel that was home to mutant spiders unless I absolutely had to.
The thought of that narrow, crude passage was like a lead weight in my stomach.
The odds were not in my favor, I conceded.
If I really wanted to hide something…well, the choice was obvious.
A narrow tunnel that you were forced to crawl through made more sense.
Then again
, I reasoned as I stepped through the taller doorway,
what better place to hide than in plain sight
.

After the narrow tunnel I had been walking
through
the scene that stretched out before me was pure heaven.
The doorway that I cautiously stepped through opened to a gigantic bowl of a room.
Granted, it was cold and dark
—it
was still a cave.
But the space was positively huge.
I dragged in several deep breaths, feeling greedy.
I was not sure if it was the cobwebs, the thoughts of killer arachnids, or the small space, but I realized that I had been taking small
,
shallow breaths for the past hour.
It felt great to relax for a minute and have nothing more to do than consume oxygen.

The flashlight moved in a wide sweep, quickly taking in each wall of the space before moving on.
I checked the high ceiling, too, just for good measure.
“
Oh, thank you Lord
,
”
I whispered.
The webs above me were sparse and mostly confined to the corners.

I brought my attention back to the walls, starting with my left side.
This was the plainest of the rough walls, I had noticed.
Rather than an intricate design, this wall was home to a variety of lines.
Some were long, but most of them were reasonably short, at what looked to be less than a foot apiece.
They were thin and grouped together in clusters of three.
They were also etched deep into the face of the rock.
The only difference between the symbols was the direction.
Some were vertical
,
while others were horizontal.
I took a step back and tried to discern a pattern among the clusters.
Squares maybe
, I thought.
I wondered what it meant and wished that I had been travelling to this place under different circumstances
, like
with a guide and two solid weeks of free time on my hands.
At the very least I wished that I had been able to better research the area and culture.
I was sure the etchings were important
; maybe
not to my quest in particular
,
but they were obviously very old
,
and someone had taken a lot of time in their creation.
More than anything, I wanted to know if they told a story or conveyed a message
—or
had they served a strictly decorative purpose?