Cave Dwellers

           
Cave

         Dwellers

           
Jonathan

                
Randall

Cave Dwellers

All rights reserved.

Copyright @2012 by Jonathan Randall

Except as permitted u
nder the U.S. Copyright  Act of 1976, no part of this publication may be

reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form

or
by any means, or stored in a retrieval system, without the prior written permission

of the author.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away

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other people.  If you would like to share this

book with another person, please purchase an addition copy for each recipient.

This is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents

either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally.  Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Edited by

Linda Hossie

   I would like to express thanks to my loving wife for giving me the time and space to write this novel.

   I want to thank my editor, Linda, for helping to polish the novel and the author.

1

   Zaac woke at seven and sat up on the side of the bed, waiting for his head to clear of morning fog. In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and washed his face. Then he put on a sweatshirt and jeans, quickly assembled the things he would need for biking: three bottles of Gatorade; five energy bars; four bottles of water; two golden delicious apples; a
handful of dried beef jerky; a pocket Leatherman, a Kick—twelve tools in one; a flashlight and a headlamp, both with spare batteries; and his fire starter kit just in case. The kit consisted of a piece of flint, replica fire steel, a magnesium stick, cotton balls with petroleum jelly and charred cloth. He had never used it outside of Boy Scouts, but you never knew. He tossed the items into his backpack and headed downstairs for a quick bite: a bowl of cereal, a couple of pieces of toast and an orange. 

   It was early enough that there was a chill, so he grabbed his jacket before heading out the door. Even in the second week in May, it was still a little cool in the mornings, not unusual in the Smoky Mountains. He mounted his bike on the back of his dad’s Ford Escape and then double checked it making sure it was secure.

   Leaving town, he headed up Highway 70 and started looking for the sign signifying Old US Highway 70. Zaac took a left on it and found the dirt road he wanted. He followed it to the end and parked in a clearing that had been created for that purpose.

   Zaac stepped out of the SUV and took a deep breath of mountain air. It’s going to be a beautiful day, he thought, glancing at the sky. The weather channel can be right after all, once in a while. He
unloaded his bike, got his backpack and started off.

   The trail at the beginning was on level ground, no effort required other than normal pedaling. Zaac had to dodge some rocks and roots but that was normal for mountain biking. After about a mile, he started up a moderate incline that became steeper as it progressed. This required a lot more effort and it wasn’t long before Zaac shed his jacket and continued with just his jeans and sweatshirt.

   At the top of the ridge, he took a breather and admired the view: a series of mountain peaks spread out at various heights with a range of greens as the trees started coming into leaf. Below, a pretty stream flowed into a lake that looked serene and majestic nestled among the mountains. He noticed that the bike trail headed that way so he started down, crisscrossing back and forth until he reached the bottom.

   Looking across the lake, Zaac could not imagine a more peaceful spot, so he decided to take a rest. He chose a patch of level ground at the base of a birch tree, and sat, quietly listening to the water cascade over rocks into the lake. The sound and the solitude had such a soothing affect, it wasn’t long before he felt pleasantly unwound, but his relaxation was short-lived.

   Zaac knew from his interest in science that there are at least two geological faults in Western North Carolina: Laurel Creek and Swannanoa. The Laurel Creek lineament runs from Spruce Pine to Hot Springs. Four earthquakes with magnitudes greater than 2.5 had hit near this lineament in recent years and much larger quakes have occurred in the past.

   The Swannanoa lineament runs from Swannanoa, maybe even as far as Hickory, to the Fontana Dam near the Tennessee State Line. The largest recorded earthquake in North Carolina history occurred near this lineament in 1916 with a magnitude of 5.2. The quake could be felt for at least 518,000 square kilometres, including in the states of Alabama, Georgia, Kentucky, South Carolina, Tennessee and Virginia. Smaller quakes with less magnitude had hit since then along this same lineament. These recent earthquakes were but foreshocks to what was getting ready to happen as Zaac sat enjoying the morning.

   The hypocenter or focus, the exact location within the earth where an earthquake starts, began just west of Bryson City. The tectonic plates had reached their maximum strain and like a rubber band being stretched to its breaking point, so had the Swannanoa fault. The rupture started there, though the quake vibrated through the earth for hundreds of miles. The breakage opened up the earth’s crust
with its epicenter near the lake where Zaac was biking. It would show an 8.1 magnitude on the Richter scale. People as far away south as Alabama and north of Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania felt the trembles.

   When Zaac felt them, he stood up. The vibrations steadily increased. “What in the world,” he said—to no one in particular. Looking around, trying to figure out what was going on, he could see the ground trembling. The shaking traveled up through his legs, making it hard for him to stay upright. As he watched the water on the lake, he could see it ripple.

   He noticed that the lake level seemed to drop. Was that possible? Then suddenly a crack opened up and headed straight for him. The ground split under his feet and down he went. He tried to grab hold of something—anything—but to no avail. His momentum increased. Loose earth tumbled all around him. Time was transformed. What felt like hours was, in reality, only seconds.

   Suddenly he was wet, soaked. He started sliding at a terrifying angle, almost like a water slide, but not any water slide he’d ever encountered. He was tossed this way and that, unable to see a thing. Water drainage over centuries had eroded the land and created caves beneath the earth’s surface. The fracture that was opening up under the lake had
brought down massive amounts of water that were now flooding these caves. That was what was creating, in essence, a massive water slide.

   Zaac, spiralling downward, was caught up in this slide. Sometimes he could get his breath, other times he seemed to be holding it. Abruptly he came to a halt sprawled on his stomach. Water flowed around him. He lay still for several minutes trying to gather his thoughts. At last, he raised his head. It was pitch black. He felt as though he had been blindfolded and used for a punching bag.

   Tentatively, he moved his right arm, then his left, and slowly raised himself. His arms were sore and bruised but they didn’t seem to be broken. Next he ran his hands down each leg. They too felt battered and definitely ached.

   Thoughts bombarded his mind. What just happened? Where am I? Thank God I am alive with nothing broken.
Now to find a way out of this mess.

   His backpack had somehow stayed on his back. Zaac reached around to take it off. Usually he did that without thinking but this time, every bone in his body seemed to hurt. With the pack in his lap, he felt for the snaps. He popped first one open, he then felt for the other and popped it, too. He rummaged inside until he found his flashlight. He pulled it out and turned it on.   

   Light, at last! He was in a cave that seemed to be about six feet in height and four feet wide, at least where he was. There was a steady uphill grade to his left and a sharp right-turning bend about seven feet ahead of him. On that side, the cave disappeared in darkness. In front was a tunnel that opened up into a sharp upward incline. Water ran through it into the cave. This must have been what he slid down, Zaac thought.

   “Well if I came down it maybe I can go back up it,” Zaac said. It would be better to use his headlamp rather than try to hold the flashlight. He stowed the flashlight, put the headlamp on his head and flipped the switch. “That should work,” he said, thinking at the same time, ‘I have to stop talking to myself’.

   He looked up the tunnel. The ceiling was too low for Zaac to stand so he got onto his hands and knees and started crawling. After about ten feet, the tunnel took a sharp turn to the left. He moved forward another few feet and the tunnel floor began to get slippery and even steeper. Inching forward, Zaac hit a spot so slick it made the earlier sections seem like Velcro. In a second, he slid all the way back down to the bottom.

   “I can do this,” Zaac said and started back up again. Retracing his steps, he moved forward carefully. The tunnel took a sharp turn to the right
and just as he was about to head around this bend, his left leg slid causing him to lose his balance and back down he went.

   ‘This isn’t going to work,’ Zaac thought. He backed up to the cave’s wall and sat, hoping for inspiration.
Nothing.

   The water was still pouring through the tunnel and through the cave to his right.

   ‘I don’t want to go any lower,’ he thought. Going right led further down. Zaac turned to the left.

   He pulled out a bottle of water and took a swallow, letting the liquid trickle down his throat. He would have to go easy on the water. He didn’t know when he’d be able to replenish his supply. Taking one more swig, he put the cap back on and tucked it away.

   Zaac stood and started off to his left. In some spots, he had to bend over to keep going and in others he had to crawl. At one point, the rock wall protruded so far into the cave that he had to turn sideways. He was barely able to squeeze through. 

   Even though it was cool in the cave, it wasn’t long before Zaac was sweating. After what seemed like hundreds of yards, he looked back and saw that he had progressed only 150 feet or so.

   This is work, he thought. Stopping to take a break, he looked around. In both directions the cave was high enough for most people to walk. He was five feet eleven inches tall, and for the first time in his life, he was happy not to be taller than six feet.

   He headed further into the cave. A sharp bend narrowed ahead of him to a foot and a half in width. Placing his hand on the wall and turning to his side to squeeze through, Zaac felt something move. He jerked his hand back. What was that? Then something crawled on his neck. With one hand, he swept it off, whatever ‘it’ was.

   Several weirdly shaped bugs hopped in front of him. They looked like roaches, yet they could jump like grasshoppers. The population started in the bend and continued as far as he could see. The one his hand touched didn’t bite him nor did the one on his neck. Maybe human flesh wasn’t included in their diet. He continued cautiously, trying not to touch any more of them. After about a hundred feet, the bugs thinned out and eventually disappeared. Excellent. They had started to give him the creeps.

   He kept moving forward. Once around another bend, he heard an unfamiliar noise at a distance. He stopped to focus on the sound but still could not locate its source.

   The more he moved forward, the more distinct the noise became, yet still he could not identify it. The top of the cave appeared to have a steady ascent and its height increased above eight feet.