Counterpoint (32 page)

Max kept the man’s knife and put the
two grenades in the backpack with spare ammunition.

“You can carry your pack” Max directed
the man. With a grunt, the man picked up the pack, and they set
off.

Using the mercenaries torch, Max
searched around the cavern.

Max surmised that over time, rocks,
swirling round and round in the whirlpool on the river bed had
ground a hole, clear through it. Water had washed away, the soft
strata below and progressively enlarged the chamber they were
in.

As much water entering must be
escaping, he reasoned, because the chamber was not full, so that
could be their way out. Max shouted in Carla’s ear and told her
what he thought had happened, and she agreed it was a possibility.
By watching the general flow of the water in the pool, it appeared
to go over to the opposite side. The central column of falling
water and dense mist prevented a view right across.

The party set off in a clockwise
direction where the ledge was wider. The ledge soon petered out,
but they found they could climb higher, to a much wider area, just
under the river floor. The upper part of the chamber was where the
water must have originally entered. As the hole above got bigger,
the falling water and rock must have bored into the softer
underlying rock, to form the pool below.

They soon discovered the narrow, but
extremely deep channel through which the water was flowing out.
Most likely, out of the cliff face at the waterfall.

The channel was about three metres wide
at the water’s surface, some six metres below. Judging by the cross
section of the water column flowing in, the channel must be some 3
metres deep. The water was flowing about 30 kilometres per hour.
There appeared to be no other way out.

Max stood and thought what their
options were. They could leap into the flow and within a short time
be ejected out into the outside world. However, if they didn’t get
smashed to pieces on the rough channel walls, they certainly would
be, on the rocks at the base of the waterfall. Ideally, if they
could block the channel, and stop the flow of water they could walk
out.

Max beckoned the other closer to him.
“I have a cunning plan, but it requires some help from you,” he
shouted to the mercenary. “If we can block the outlet channel we
should be able to climb down and walk out.” Carla saw what Max was
getting at, but the man didn’t. Max tried to explain it more
simply. “The water coming in is equal to the water going out at the
moment. If the outlet channel is blocked at the pool end, nothing
will flow out again until the whole chamber fills up and flows over
the blockage. This gives us about a minute or so to climb down into
the water free channel and get out.”

“You’re totally mad, you can’t block
the channel, there are not enough loose rocks to do it and even if
there were, the chamber would fill before you had finished!” Said
the man.

“This is where you come in. Can you use
your grenades to cause a rock fall?”

He looked incredulously for a moment,
and then an idea dawned on him. “Let me have the torch, I need to
look around.”

It was some time before he spoke, and
Max and Carla were getting anxious. The torch would not last much
longer they thought, and they needed to get blasting whilst they
could still see their way out.

“OK!” He said at last, “The roof is too
risky, and it is solid rock. If that cracks, the river will fill
the chamber, in seconds. We will have to blast material from the
channel wall. The best place is where it narrows. We need to plant
the grenades deep into a pocket for them to have any effect.”
Shining the torch light as a pointer, “I reckon about 1.5 metres
down under that overhang would do the job. If all goes to plan, the
bulk of the overhang will shear off and drop down to provide the
majority of the blockage. More rubble from the surrounding area
might be enough to fill the gaps and slow the water.”

“The problem is we have nothing to cut
the pocket, no way to get down there and no way of detonating the
grenades from a safe distance.”

"Good, good," said Max, “So the idea
works then.”

“I can do my bit if you can do yours,”
replied the man, unconvinced.

“Carla, you’re the lightest, if we
lower you down can you dig out the rock with the knife?”

“I suppose so providing it is not too
hard,” she said uncertainly. “How big a pocket do you need,” she
asked the man.

“About 300 mm minimum, deeper than the
knife is long though,” he replied. “Anyway, she can’t get to the
rock face because of the overhang.”

“How much ammo do you have” snapped
Max.

“Six clips for the pistol, seven for
the machine gun,” replied Carla “And yes, you could shoot the rock
away with that lot.”

"Okay then," said Max enthusiastically.
“By the way, what is your name?”

“Matt” replied the man suspiciously,
“Matt Stone.”

“Take the torch, go around the pool,
and shoot a pocket out of the rock where it needs to be.”

“OK!” Said Matt, “But how will you
place the charge? She still won’t be able to get to the hole!”

“You don’t know the talents of this
girl” Max replied confidently.

“I can imagine some of them.” Matt
muttered, picking up the guns and ammo.

"Right," said Max to Carla in the
darkness, “We need to unpick a long strand from the rope so we can
pull the grenade pins out from up here.”

“Hell!” She said, “this rope is already
pencil-thin, and you expect me to dangle from it when it’s
thinner?”

“Well, ” replied Max pragmatically “If
the rope snaps you’ll die in seconds. We will die of hunger, days
later. If it makes you feel better, if you fall, I would jump in
and join you.”

She did not say any more, but got on
with the job of carefully unravelling a strand from the rope.

It was just one and a half minutes
later when Matt focused the torch light on the base of the
overhang. His hopes of success rose sharply when he saw there was a
deep ledge scored out of the soft rock. He thought to himself, with
that large fault across the base already, the girl might be able to
pull herself onto it and place a charge into the packet
properly.

Matt fitted some earplugs, took careful
aim, and fired a single shot. A dinner plate sized chunk of soft
rock spalled away. His next shot hit the same spot, but much less
flew out. Another shot 50 mm higher this time, burst out more rock
and sent the bullet screaming back at him. He inched himself back
from the edge of the ledge he lay on, to present a smaller target
for any future ricocheting bullets; he continued to aim and
fire.

After 20 shots, he realised the bits of
loose rock and dust were building up in the hole and cushioning the
impact of the bullets. He had to think of a way of clearing the
pocket. It might even be deep enough by now! Matt quickly returned
and explained to the others what the problem was. He added, “What
we usually do when planting explosives on a road is to drive a
metal spike through the road surface, working it around, so the
point loosens the soil under it and forms a small chamber. We then
put a small charge in the bottom of the hole and ignite it. This
makes a substantial chamber under the road to take a much larger
charge, leaving just the original small hole through the road that
we started with. I can make a small charge out of several bullets
wrapped in tape. The girl can push them deeper into the hole I have
made, leaving the percussion caps exposed, so I can shoot at them
to set off the charge.” All three looked at each other, and Carla
shrugged in the torchlight and nodded OK.

Matt quickly made up the charge pack
and scratched the diagram of what he wanted her to do, in the wet
rock they sat on. She already knew what was required the moment
Matt described how to clear the hole. She had seen the preparation
and placement of dynamite in rock when planning escape routes. Max
on the other hand was fascinated by the technique. To reduce the
cutting in of the thin rope around Carla’s waist, she wore Matt’s
bullet-proof jacket. Max tied the other end of the rope around his
waist and used Matt’s gloves to better grip the rope. Loops were
tied in the rope as well, large enough to slip a hand in so as to
maintain a steady grip when Carla was level with the new pocket in
the rock. Max knew her life depended on him and silently prayed he
could cope on his own holding her eight-stone body with the pencil
thin rope cutting deep into his hands. The soft skin on his hands
had seldom encountered manual labour and therefore, lacked the
thicker skin and calluses of more physical men.

Matt showed Max how to wrap the rope
across his body, allowing the friction against it to lessen the
pull on his hands. By paying out the rope this way and bracing his
body against the solid rock, he should maintain control. Matt could
help him pull her up, when he got back, if necessary.

With Matt on the other side of the
channel using the torchlight to guide Carla’s point of descent, she
could not see the pocket; she dropped over the edge. Because of the
roar of water in the cavern, Max watched the torchlight as it
signalled what he had to do. One flash lower her down, two flashes
stop, three flashes pull up.

Once below the overhang, Carla saw the
pocket and adjusted the balance of her body so she could reach out
and grasp the ledge. As Max continued to lower her, she pulled
herself in closer. As her hold on the ledge improved and more of
her weight was taken by it, the load on Max’s arms rapidly dropped
to nothing as she hoisted herself up on the ledge.

Carefully, she forced the charged deep
into the hole. The bullets had been remarkably effective in
penetrating but left many sharp edges, impossible to remove with
bare hands. Hopefully, the small charge could remove them, then the
two grenades would fit extremely well at the bottom of the
pocket.

Carla decided to slide along the ledge
away from the pocket and signalled to Matt to fire into the hole.
This departure from what was agreed made good sense, but was
terribly dangerous. No one could predict the result of the
explosion or the actual direction of the blast. Time was running
out, and the torch was much dimmer now. Matt fired, right on
target. The contents of the pocket shot out, right at Matt. He had
anticipated this might happen, but to get a clear shot his eyes and
above were highly exposed. Flying rock lacerated his scalp as it
shot by him.

Carla had put her fingers in her ears,
but the noise was so loud it still made them ring.

The echoes reverberated around the
chamber like thunder. With his fingers in his ears and face against
his knees Max hoped nothing would break loose and fall on him.

A sort of quiet descended on them.
Still, the thunder of cascading water continued, but it was nothing
to the crescendo from the blast.

Max pulled hard on the rope, Carla was
still there, Matt signalled not to pull yet. Carla moved back to
the pocket, it was now exceedingly deep, cleared right out, with a
bulbous base and the original smaller opening. With her thumbs up
to Matt, he signalled Max to pull her up as he raced back to meet
them.

The crucial stage of placing the
grenades and detonating them was next. Matt showed Carla how to
place the grenades, pull the pins almost out so a tug on the string
would pull them free. He also ripped out his trouser pockets and
explained how to fill them with damp dust and small bits of rock so
they would help retain the blast. She knew this already.

Back down the rock face, she went, Matt
is shouldering the rope this time, Max with a torch on the other
side of the channel. Carla had trouble adjusting her balance; the
grenades were quite heavy and made a difference to her trim.

Eventually, she pulled herself onto the
ledge and positioned herself at the hole. Quickly she placed the
grenades, adjusting the pins and string in the dim torchlight.

There were plenty of damp rock
particles on the ledge, and the trouser pockets were soon filled.
Placing them securely yet allowing a string and both pins to be
withdrawn was tricky. In the end, she used the pockets as padding
to keep the string and pins free, and backfilled the hole with
rock. Signalling to go up, she rolled off the ledge when Matt took
the strain on the rope. With him pulling hard, she scrambled up
using whatever hand and foothold she could find, she reached the
top just as Max returned.

The torch could only be used in short
bursts now; the battery was practically exhausted, recovering a
little whilst it was off.

Pulling them close in the dark, Matt
suggested where they should take cover. “When I pull the string, we
have five seconds to get to safety, wherever that might be.”

“I am sure the overhang will collapse,
but how much and if it will block the flow of water, I don’t know”
he added.

“The shock wave might injure us, and it
might cause the roof and river above to fall in on us.”

"Shit or bust then," said Max.

“On my count of five then,” continued
Matt. “I will pull the string. Ready with a torch? One, Two, Three,
Four, Five.” On came the torch, brightly at first, but dimming with
each of the passing five seconds. All three lay flat on the ledge
several yards away from the overhang, tucked around the corner.
Matt and Max protected Carla with their bodies. Each with their
fingers in their ears, mouths open and eyes tightly closed.

The blinding flash and shockwave left
them stunned and dazed. They felt the solid stone ledge they were
on, vibrate, as massive rocks struck it, close to them. The rumble
of the explosion diminished, but falling rock continued for about
15 seconds.

Suddenly they felt icy water sweep
along the ledge. The roar of the water sounded so different, it
sounded splashier.