Inhabited (8 page)

“Everybody want to hand me their lamps?” Joy asked.

From around the corner, they heard Carlos.

“¡Diablo!” he said.

Travis rushed to catch up. He came around the rock to find Carlos crouching and Justin standing. Between them was a canvas bag.

“My bag!” Travis said.

Carlos teased up the flap with the end of his flashlight. He flipped it open.

“It’s
a
bag, but not
your
bag,” Carlos said.

Travis drew closer and looked as Carlos picked through the contents. He found matches, a lighter, some stubby candles, a flashlight, and a couple of paperback books. The covers of the books showed smoking guns, long legs, and fedoras. The bag was spotted with mildew.

“Someone else has trouble hanging onto gear,” Justin said. Carlos stood up and Justin nudged the bag with his foot.
 

Joy appeared with her bottle of water. “Let me refill your lamps.”

“We found this,” Carlos said, pointing.
 

Miguel moved to the bag and began to paw through the contents.

“What’s the date on those books?” Joy asked.

Miguel flipped through and called out years. “Seventy-six. Seventy-seven. Another seventy-seven.” When he finished he looked at his fingers and wiped them on his shirt. “Everything in there is sticky.”

“So we know it’s no older than seventy-seven,” Joy said. She shrugged. “I wish people wouldn’t leave garbage in the cave.”

“Give me the lighter,” Travis said. “The matches, too. Can’t hurt.” He moved to the bag and picked out a couple of the longest candles as well. Travis stuffed things into his pockets as Joy filled the lamps of the rest of their group.

“We can do one more filling and then we have to turn back,” she said. “We never use more than half of our budgeted water. The rest we save for an emergency.”

“It’s okay,” Miguel said. “According to the map, we’re almost there.” He began to climb one of the rocks and headed towards an arched hole in the side wall.

-o-o-o-o-o-

“Where did he get that map?” Joy asked.

Travis turned back. “I’m not sure. I think he said it was from his uncle or his grandfather.”

“I thought his whole family came here from Venezuela when he was a kid,” Kristin said.

“I don’t know. Maybe his uncle came earlier,” Travis said.

Miguel and Justin were way off to the side. They were on a high ledge, a dozen yards to the right, working their way down the wall.

“Hey! Miguel!” Travis called. The way his voice echoed made him cringe. He resolved to keep his voice down.
 

Miguel didn’t answer, he just waved dismissively and went back to his whispers with Justin. They were solving a problem and didn’t want to be bothered.

“I think the way is over here,” Carlos said. He had followed the rock around the next bend and come back with his arms folded. “I’ll show you.”

“I think we should all stay within sight of each other,” Joy said. “The last thing we want to do is split up. It might not seem like a complicated cave, but you would be surprised at how different everything will look when we turn around and head back.”

“This is the only way out,” Carlos said. “I don’t know what those guys think they are doing.”

They all spun when Miguel whistled. The sharp noise ripped through the cave like an alarm. When he realized the source, Travis straightened back up.

“What?” Travis yelled.

“Come up here. We need help.”

Carlos and Travis held out hands for Joy, but she pushed herself up to the ledge and moved right by them.

“My father always used to say, ‘Take nothing but memories. Leave nothing but footprints.’ I’m certain that rule includes physically moving one of the rocks,” Joy said.

“Listen,” Miguel said. “It’s not like we’d be the first. You can see these scrapes over here. This rock was moved to this spot on purpose. It’s on the map.”

“Where did you get the map?” Joy asked.

“My
abuelito
,” Miguel said.

“So your grandfather moved this rock?” Travis asked.

“No. He never came in here. He bargained it from a
Duende
.” Miguel saw that they were confused. “You know, a
Duende
. What do you guys call it?”

“Call what?” Joy asked. She looked to Travis.

“Don’t ask me. That’s some Venezuelan shit,” Travis said, shaking his head.

Miguel gestured. “You know—it’s one of those little guys. It’s like an elf at Christmas, but it’s not. They don’t work for Santa.”

Carlos shook his head. “You’ve never been more foreign than you are right now.”

Miguel laughed. “I don’t know what to tell you. My
abuelito
—my grandfather—used to bargain sometimes with this little dwarf guy. The old people all thought he was mystical or something. He was probably just a dwarf. Anyway, that’s where he got the map and the ore. It was probably a bunch of dwarfs in here who moved the rock. If they can do it, then so can we.”

They all looked to Joy.

“There is precedent for moving rocks if it’s to access a new area. I suppose that since we’re not breaking anything, it might be okay.”

Justin waved them over to the side of the rock. The thing was about waist-high on Travis. He crouched down to push on a lower part of the rock so others could push higher up.

“Let’s get it rocking,” Justin said. “No pun intended.”

They grunted as they pushed. When the rock started to move, they fell into a rhythm. Travis could see that the rock hadn’t just been shoved into position, the edges had been chinked with smaller rocks, and the resulting gaps had been filled with sand. Everything fell away as the rock really began to move.

“One more,” Justin said, grunting. He was wrong, it took two more pushes.
 

A crack opened in the improvised mortar. Travis heard air escape from the cave beyond. It seemed to exhale a giant sigh. For a second, it seemed like a yellow light was coming from behind the rock. Travis realized that it was just the glow of someone else’s headlamp reflecting off the damp rocks.

When the rock finally went, it didn’t stop. The edge they rolled it on was round, and the ledge sloped away. The rock kept moving and picked up speed.
 

They stood and watched it roll back to its flat side, but by then it was too late. The rock had already reached the edge of the ledge. It tumbled down to the path below, filling the cave with a terrible sound. The rock bounced and broke apart. The halves rolled opposite directions until they came to a stop.

“So much for footprints,” Kristin said.

“Sorry, Dad,” Joy said.

They turned their lights back to the hole that they had uncovered.

“What?” Miguel asked.

Travis was closest, kneeling where the rock had recently sat. He reached out to the place on the wall that the rock had uncovered.

“Don’t touch it!” Justin yelled.

Travis looked back at him and rolled his eyes. “It’s just chalk or something.”

The rock had revealed a nearly round hole that was easily big enough to crawl through. At least it would have been, but the hole had almost been sealed from the other side. In contrast to the red rock, the circular hole was filled in with white powder, packed until it was rigid. Only through the very center could Travis peer through to the other side. The porthole was maybe the size of a grapefruit.

Before anyone else could object, Travis poked at the chalk accumulation, right near the center of the hole. It crumbled away easily from his finger.
 

He jerked his hand and hauled his finger back close to his body. He whipped around to the group and screamed. “It burns! My fucking finger is burning off! It’s burning.”

Joy fumbled for her bottle of water. She spun the cap off and rushed forward to pour it on Travis’s hand. When she dropped to her knees next to him, Travis showed his hand and broke into a smile.

“Just kidding,” he said.

“Jerk,” Joy said. She splashed water at his face.

-o-o-o-o-o-

Travis laughed and wiped water from his brow. He frowned.
 

“Ow! Shit!” Travis ducked down and wiped furiously at his head with his hands. “Fuck, guys! What the fuck?”

“Very funny,” Carlos said. “Quit screwing around.”

“I’m serious,” Travis said. He rose back up and Joy emitted a surprised shout. There was white smoke coming from Travis’s forehead, just underneath the brow of his helmet.

“Shit,” Joy said. She pulled a rag from her bag and lunged for Travis. He saw her coming and scrambled back.

“Get away from me what that shit. Damn it!” Travis flopped backwards and pulled himself away from her. He was flailing on the ground, kicking blindly to try to escape.
 

“Grab him before he falls,” Joy shouted. “Hold him!”

Justin and Carlos rushed to obey. They pinned down Travis’s arms, but he still kicked and thrashed. Kristin and Miguel moved to secure his legs. Joy went for his head.

“Hold still. Shit, this is pretty bad. Hold him still,” Joy said. She dug in her bag and pulled out a different bottle. This one had a brown liquid. When she poured it on Travis’s forehead, he screamed and bucked. The four of them barely managed to keep him down.

Joy blotted at his skin with her rag and moved his helmet to the side. Travis settled down and moaned.

“Are you okay? Does it still hurt?” Joy asked.

Kristin and Miguel let up their death-grip on his legs. Carlos and Justin hauled him up to a sitting position. When they let go, Travis took the rag from Joy and pressed it to his forehead.
 

“What was it?”

Joy glanced back at the hole and then took Travis’s hand. She pointed her light at his fingers and then back up to his head. Travis squinted against the light.

“Let me see,” Kristin said. “Carlos, you look.”

“That’s a chemical burn,” Carlos said. Travis had a red spot on his forehead where the skin had been burned. The spot was about the size of a dime.

“Yeah,” Joy said. “I think so too. I think that powder is like lye or something. I think it burned your face when it touched the water.”

Travis coughed and then sneezed before he could speak again. “So why did you pour more water on then?”

“Oh,” Joy said. She was still holding the bottle. She showed it to Travis. “It’s soda. I figured the acid might neutralize.”

“Maybe it just washed the powder away,” Justin said. He took the bottle of soda from Joy and walked back towards the hole.

“How does it feel?” Kristin asked.
 

“It’s okay now,” Travis said. “It still hurts, but it’s not terrible.” He dabbed again with the rag.

“Didn’t it hurt your finger too?” Kristin asked.

“No,” Travis said, holding out his hand. “Why didn’t it hurt my… Fuck!” He scooted forward on his butt.

“What?” Joy asked.

Travis looked down and smiled. “Nothing. I burned myself on the lamp.” The headlamp on his helmet was still burning. Travis had grazed it. He picked up the helmet and set it gingerly down on his head, careful to wear it at an angle where it didn’t get close to his forehead.

“We’re going to have to be really careful,” Justin said from over at the hole.

They looked over to him. He had used a chunk of rock to scrape away the compressed powder from the perimeter of the hole. There was a spot of it on the back of his hand. Justin wiped it carefully on his shirt.
 

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Joy said. “I’m not going through there.”

“Then this is where we split up,” Miguel said. He hunched over and ducked through the hole.

“D
O
YOU
SEE
THIS
?” she asked. Florida jabbed her finger at the wall.

“All I’m saying is that we can’t be sure we took the right path.”

Roger looked down each of the tunnels. They were at a four-way intersection of identical tunnels.

“Do you
see
this?”

“I mean, think about it,” Roger said.

“Is there any chance you’re going to answer me?” She thrust her finger at the wall again.
 

“Yes. Yes. I see it. Big deal. Why is that the point?”

“These holes were made by you with that tool. There used to be a drop-stamp here on the wall. That means that we came through here.”

Roger tried to diffuse her frustration by staying slow and calm. “Hear me out, would you? Can I just finish a thought before you jump in? All I’m saying is this—when we came down the shaft, there was no flag to point us in the return direction. Because there was no flag, we could have gotten turned around and gone the wrong direction.”

She was equally as slow, but her voice didn’t sound calm. “If we had gone the wrong direction, then we wouldn’t have found this spot where a drop-stamp used to be.”

“Maybe those holes are from something else. Maybe a team from a previous year made them,” he offered.

“This is the first year Dr. Grossman has used drop-stamps affixed to walls, and this rock oxidizes quickly. See this color difference when I chip away part of the wall?” she asked. She illustrated by jamming their tool into the side of the tunnel. “That color will change over time. From what Dr. Grossman said, it only takes a month for
this
color to fade to
that
color. And you would know this if you had paid even the slightest amount of attention.”

Roger didn’t reply right away. He wanted to master his anger first. “Please don’t try to lay blame for us being lost at my feet. It wasn’t my idea to climb up to see that noose.”

“Stop changing the subject. We’re talking about how to get un-fucked and out of this mine.”

“Easy,” Roger said. “Clearly, we don’t know which direction to go here. So we go back that way, try the other tunnel, and continue until we get to a junction. If there’s no flag there either, then we know you were right. If there is a flag, then problem solved. Can we at least try that?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “That’s not procedure. The procedure says that if we get lost, we wait. We’re supposed to camp out and simply wait. Radio checks every fifteen. We’ll just relax here.”