The Caverns of Mare Cetus (10 page)

   "My call?" She reached up and kneaded her shoulder with her fingers. Then she put out her left hand. "Take my hand, will you?" She took his right hand in her own.

   Hunter was shocked. As long as he had known Renata, she had never acted more than cordial toward him. Her touch now was more than casual. The strength of her grip was like a security hold. As she began playing with his fingers—probing, embarrassed anxiety raced through him.

   "You did say you still respect me, didn't you?"

   "Of course. Of course I do." Hunter gently squeezed her hand.

   "I've finally realized what I've seen in Garrett," she said abruptly.

   His ears perked up. "What is it?"

   She hesitated with her response. "Fear."

   "Fear? Then I'm not imagining things."

   "Should you be?" She pressed her fingers between his, moving them in a steady rhythm, like they were the oars of a galleon.

   "But you know that doesn't make any sense."

   "Why does it have to make sense?" she asked. "Sometimes one just has to believe the unbelievable. Can you do that?" She squeezed his hand tightly, carnally.

   "But Garrett's been exploring caves for years. He's faced more danger than all of us combined. What would he have to fear?"

   "Shouldn't it be—why?" she asked. "We should look for reason where reason is hidden. Like the darkness of these caves. It's not the darkness we fear, it's why we fear the darkness."

   "Fear the darkness? What do you mean?"

   "It's not—what I mean. It's why I mean it."

   "Hold on. You've lost me. What are you talking about?"

   She let out with a heavy sigh. Her voice strengthened. "It's why— Hunter. Why—not what."

   His voice cracked. "What?"

   "No! Why."

   Hunter was flustered. His brilliant Second wasn't making any sense. In fact she was aggravating him. And the way she was holding his hand now, it was as if she was never going to let it go. "Renata…"

   "We know Garrett's lying, don't we? And it's not a good lie."

   Hunter didn't reply. That remark bothered him. That's what Trent had just said about her. Had she overheard them?

   "I said—Garrett's lying," she said after a moment.

   Hunter glanced at her, but couldn't see her face clearly because of the shadows from the lights. "Of course he's lying, but why would he lie?"

   She sighed again. "Finally. The correct question—why. That is the place to start."

   "Hey!" shouted Ramon. "What in Quetzalcoatl's name is going on up there?"

   "That is his god all right." Renata slipped her sweaty hand out of Hunter's, her fingertips trailing along his palm.

   Hunter stopped and turned around. "Let's talk about the bootstealing sicko that's been lurking around the caves."

   "It wasn't me!" exclaimed Ramon.

   "Right," said Arielle. "Tell us another one. But make it a good lie because I'm never going to let you live it down."

   "A good lie again?" muttered Hunter. "That can't be coincidence…Renata." He anxiously turned forward, but Renata hadn't stopped. She was next to Richelle. He started after her.

   "Hold on there, Captain," said Ramon. "Our tail needs you to harvest some weeds."

   Hunter halted and watched Renata and Richelle move farther down the passage. Ramon and the others immediately began to quiz him about the passages up ahead. Weeds—worries, problems, gripes. Hunter despised them.

   Edison's main weed was some of the passages might be too tight for his bulky frame, and Isis wondered if she could get Hunter's approval to try out her LMRSD, a prototype climbing pad better known as The Sticky. Based on Intelligent Micro-Infusion technologies, the pad was a mobile support device that would move along a rock face with an explorer as he or she climbed, providing a haven for the climber no matter what type of rock face was encountered.

   Though Hunter was tired of indulging in new technologies that would supposedly make an explorer's work as easy as rolling out of bed, he found it difficult to put Isis off. She was a gutsy woman, and he liked what he read in her BioForm. Her main expertise was in biochemistry, but she had a solid background in inorganic chemistry as well. More so, he admired her fortitude and tenacity when it came to exploring, her attitudes reminding him of his own younger days on Earth. Though an outside consultant and the second youngest of the party, she was as expert as any of them. On top of that, her heroic actions to save the lives of two engineers in the Selinax Complex on the other side of the planet had given her considerable notoriety with Explora upper management.

   After awhile, Edison became Hunter's focus. Hunter had taken him for granted up to this point in the trip, but he began to appreciate Edison's determination to conquer the caves and get down to the velandrite. Hunter knew he was a workhorse who normally didn't have "no" in his vocabulary. Still, he realized if Arielle cleverly manipulated Edison to her side again, as he believed she had already done, Edison might become a painful thorn. Hunter sighed as he thought about all the minor details he had to constantly keep abreast of. His experience had proven to him that managing a team's personality was often far more challenging than the caves themselves.

   Time passed and the party descended down a steep, narrow, winding, rock-strewn passage to the second level of the Complex and to the entrance to the Long Hall. Hunter thought it was a good time for lunch and gave the word. As Trent and Isis began passing out lunch to the group, Hunter sat next to Renata. After a moment, Garrett sat down beside her as well.

   Within minutes, Ramon began passing out cups of coffee. When he gave Hunter a cup, he smiled devilishly. "You and Renata. What's going on?"

   "Nothing," he replied.

   "I see," said Ramon. "Playing games, huh?" He whispered in Hunter's ear. "Let me warn you, señor, just watch your next move, or it's going to be check and mate."

   "Talk about the one playing games," whispered Hunter. "How could you spill your guts about the claim staking? You could have blown the entire mission."

   "Wasn't me, señor. No way. I gave my word. Ari and Edison just started discussing it out of the blue. One of them might have overheard us. That's all I can figure out."

   "I find that hard to believe. They weren't anywhere near us."

   "Damn," whispered Ramon. "No one believes me anymore. I'm telling you. I'm not lying, good or bad. Ari confronted me about the claim staking, and I did the only thing I could. I gave her the silent stare." He took a deep breath. "Too bad that was all she needed to realize she was right. But I swear I didn't tell her. You said Renata knew. I'll bet she told Ari…"

   "No way," whispered Hunter.

   "I'm warning you. Don't turn your back on that woman. She's way smarter than you—and me. She wants your job. And she'll do anything to get it. She'll screw you, then flush you. I've seen it before."

   "Fat chance that's going to happen," whispered Hunter. "Look. I believe you about the claim staking. Just find who did spill the beans, okay?"

   "Diós te bendiga, mi amigo. I'll do what I can." Ramon winked at Hunter, then handed a cup of coffee to Renata.

   "Hunter," said Garrett. "What can we expect in the Long Hall?"

   Hunter turned toward him. "Three K's have run through it. It's long and narrow, and the floor and walls are pretty smooth. Not much of a gradient. Except for a couple of spots with abundant stalagmites and stalactites, it's pretty dull."

   "That's promising," said Renata who had taken off her boots and socks. She pulled her left foot toward her and looked inquisitively at her sole. "My feet are still a bit sore."

   Hunter's eyes were drawn to Garrett's rifle, which was laying across his lap. "So, you married to that thing now?"

   "It pays to keep it close," said Garrett. "Never know when you're going to need it."

   "Never know when its owner is going to go off, either," quipped Ramon. He handed a cup of coffee to Garrett.

   "Yeah, that's right, isn't it, señor?"

   "You make me nervous," said Ramon. "You know that?"

   Garrett picked up his sandwich from his plate. "Then that means I'm doing my job."

   Hunter sipped some coffee. "What's that supposed to mean?"

   "Do you expect we'll get to the end of the Long Hall by night camp?" asked Renata as she shifted her body closer to Hunter. She crossed her legs, her left knee coming to rest on Hunter's thigh.

   "I think so," said Hunter as he looked at her leg.

   She began bobbing her left leg as her left hand came to rest on his thigh. "Here, have some of these." She offered him some stringy greenish-blue fruits, called mangolos.

   He took a few, his eyes becoming fixed on her face.

   Her face held forward, her eyes seemed to be glancing at him continuously as she dangled a mangolo in front of her mouth and provocatively played with it with the tip of her tongue. Then she placed the fruit on her tongue and rolled it into her mouth. She ate several more fruits in the same deliberate fashion while continuing to send glances Hunter's way.

   Hunter sat up straight.
What was she doing?

   Renata looked in her cup, her brow wrinkling in annoyance. "Don't you know I need creamer in this, Ramon."

   Ramon, who had just sat down across from her, grumbled and slowly stood up.

   She flashed Hunter a wide smile. "Arielle has appointed Ramon my personal servant for the day. Servitude has its strong points, don't you think?" She squeezed Hunter's thigh with her hand.

   Hunter wondered about the way she had just squeezed his leg— what was she doing? Making an advance? He glanced around at the others. Devon, who was sitting across from him on a flat-topped limestone block, immediately dropped her gaze to her plate as he looked at her.

   Devon took a bite of her sandwich, then looked up at Hunter. "You don't look like you're enjoying lunch. Something bothering you?"

   He looked at her quizzically.
What did she mean by that? Had she
noticed what Renata was doing?

   "My. Your cup's still steaming hot," said Ramon as he poured creamer into Renata's cup.

   "Why shouldn't it be hot?" asked Renata. "I like it hot—with plenty of creamer."

   "That's a good boy," said Arielle. "You just treat her right now. Like I told you. Or you'll be getting no more from me."

   As Ramon cursed in Spanish, the group broke into a hearty laugh. He sat back down beside Arielle.

   But Hunter didn't laugh. He was too consumed with what was being said, as if there was some secret discussion going on right under his nose. As the group's conversation wandered through a variety of topics, Hunter continued to dwell on the unbelievable way Renata was acting toward him.
Wasn't that exactly what Renata had said?
Believe the unbelievable? Maybe Ramon was right. Maybe Renata
"was" after his job. Or was Ramon just screwing with him? Could this all
be some kind of organized joke?
Certainly the coincidences seemed to be piling up like shit in a birdcage.

   "Let's go, Hunter," said Garrett. "Or are you planning to take up residence?" He was standing over Hunter, his backpack on, his rifle slung over his shoulder.

   Startled, Hunter looked up, then looked at his plate. It was still half full.

   "Leave him be," said Ramon. "He's in the middle of a game of chess." He nudged Hunter's shoulder with his hand, then gave him a garish smile.

   After Hunter finished his drink and dumped his plate and cup in the small garbage box behind him, he began to gather his things.

   Renata stepped up to him. "I'll lead this stretch if that's okay with you." Without waiting for a response, she motioned to the group. "Let's go." She started down the Long Hall, Garrett and Trent coming to her side.

   Hunter picked up his gear and followed. There she was again— taking the lead, just like Ramon said—and that bothered him now. Perhaps this was a good time to lag back for awhile and observe—to figure out if something actually was going on.

   Over the next several hours of hiking though, Hunter found it difficult to remain focused on his original intent. Instead, an unexpected tension seemed to have slowly and insidiously taken hold of him. It had started as a seed, Hunter first noticing it when he stopped to examine a small, mottled grayish-green float block that was embedded high in a limestone wall. As he reached up and felt the grainy texture of the angular rock, an unexplained nervousness seemed to leap into his hands. Instinctively he backed away from the wall and shot glances up and down the passage. The feeling passed, and he touched the rock again—nothing.

   Some time later, as they hiked through a narrow section of the Hall, he felt compelled to look at the cavern walls, as if he was about to find something unusual, bizarre. No matter what else he tried to focus on, his eyes were continually drawn toward the walls. Soon he was scanning them in an obsessive fashion, as if he had no power to turn away. But he found nothing. The feeling passed.

   As he hiked, his odd feelings continued to wax, then wane, like the motions of the tides. Several times he abruptly felt like he was being followed, that someone or something was directly behind him. Each time he turned around, and each time there was nothing. And when he stopped to adjust the fit of his left boot, he at once felt like someone was watching him. He looked up anxiously. He noticed Devon peering back at him, but he was sure that wasn't what he felt. He shrugged it off. The feeling passed.

   A short time later, more anxieties returned, but this time they seemed to come from the cave. He began to feel the darkness closing in on him, the lights from his symotes and those of the others seeming to slowly dim. The air thickened with an oppressive humidity. His breathing became heavy, difficult. Soon he felt like he was going to choke at every breath, a claustrophobic panic on the verge of overrunning him. He began breathing through clenched teeth as he buried his gaze in the ground. Each breath was getting harder and harder to take; the air seemed to have turned into water. His chest hurt, his legs were weak, his stomach was tied up in a knot.