Point Blank
Page 39
“Good-sized, maybe forty feet across, maybe five, ten feet more the long way. But there’s this weirdly shaped limestone niche inset deeply into the back wall that makes it seem even bigger.”
“I don’t suppose you found anything in that niche?”
Chappy gave her a sharp look. “I remember as a kid thinking there should be Indian relics set in there, but I didn’t find any.” He shook Dix’s sleeve. “Okay, you’re going to twist more to the right, I think, and then this passage drops off again—pretty steep so be careful—and dumps you right out into the big chamber.”
When they’d all stepped down into the chamber after Dix, Chappy asked, “Was this the chamber you were in, Ruth?”
“I don’t know yet, Chappy. I don’t remember much.”
“Let’s head in, see if we can find out,” Savich said.
Dix stepped farther into the cavern, his Coleman lantern casting misshapen shadows on the walls ahead of them.
CHAPTER 13
IT WAS LIKE a large vault, the ceiling soaring upward, with myriad groups of stalactites of incredible shapes hanging like chandeliers above their heads. But many of those within reach weren’t whole, more like jagged, broken spears, scattered chunks tossed about on the cavern floor. “What a shame,” Ruth said. “Men did this.”
It was odd, but when she turned her head lamp away from the formations, reflecting light at her, the chamber seemed dark, too dark, and quiet, her voice alien in the dead air. She realized she was afraid.
“You okay, Ruth?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said a little too brightly to Sherlock. “Look at that weird formation. It looks like a casket.”
“Thanks for pointing that out,” Chappy said. “Makes me feel all warm inside. Beautiful, though, isn’t it? Too bad some people can’t leave beautiful things alone.”
It was odd, Ruth thought, but she had to struggle with herself to walk forward, afraid to find out what had happened to her here, if this was indeed the chamber. But of course it was since someone had gone to all the trouble of sealing up the entrance.
“It’s longer than you thought, Chappy,” Dix said as he walked farther into the cavern, his head lamp lighting up the shadowy walls near him. “Ruth, you think the arch might be over to your right? You want to take a look?”
No, she didn’t even want to move. She felt like she was buried alive and the air was running out and she would suffocate. She wanted to run back out of this airless black chamber with its secrets, wanted to run along that long ledge until she could climb back out into the daylight. She schooled herself not to breathe too hard. She stood very quietly, surrounded by the weaving splashes of light from all the head lamps, and made herself draw in air, slowly, and slower still. She felt a hitch in her throat and she shivered. It was cold in there, colder than it should be.
She drew in another deep breath. Good, she could do that. She was being ridiculous. She made herself turn and walk along the right-hand wall of the cavern. The arch would be there, and she would know once and for all if this was the place where—What? There was still a black hole in her brain, as black as the hole in which she stood. She focused her head lamp on the wall but couldn’t see any opening. She remembered taking steps before, too many steps that didn’t lead anywhere. Circles, she’d probably taken steps in circles, gone round and round, faster and faster. She shook her head again. She remembered the steps ending, but how was that possible?
She stumbled, went down on her hands and knees, and felt a jab of pain in her palm. She’d hit a sharp piece of fallen limestone. She looked at her hand, shook it. It wasn’t bad, she hadn’t cut through her glove. Other than the scattered limestone, the floor was surprisingly smooth. There was something, a small round object, on the floor at the edge of her head lamp light. She crawled over it to get a better look.
It was her compass.
A vivid memory seared through her. Her compass. She’d thrown it away in a moment of what? Anger? Frustration? She’d thrown it away because it had lied to her, given her directions that were impossible. She’d thrown it away because she was afraid.
She called out in a voice that didn’t sound like hers, “I found my compass. I remember I dropped it here. This is the chamber all right.”
They surrounded her in a moment. Dix took her hand and pulled her up. He took the compass from her, laid it flat on his palm, studied it. “It still seems to be working.”
She swallowed. “When I was in here, it was all squirrelly.” She was shaking her head. “No, I didn’t drop it, I threw it as far away from me as I could.”
“I don’t suppose you found anything in that niche?”
Chappy gave her a sharp look. “I remember as a kid thinking there should be Indian relics set in there, but I didn’t find any.” He shook Dix’s sleeve. “Okay, you’re going to twist more to the right, I think, and then this passage drops off again—pretty steep so be careful—and dumps you right out into the big chamber.”
When they’d all stepped down into the chamber after Dix, Chappy asked, “Was this the chamber you were in, Ruth?”
“I don’t know yet, Chappy. I don’t remember much.”
“Let’s head in, see if we can find out,” Savich said.
Dix stepped farther into the cavern, his Coleman lantern casting misshapen shadows on the walls ahead of them.
CHAPTER 13
IT WAS LIKE a large vault, the ceiling soaring upward, with myriad groups of stalactites of incredible shapes hanging like chandeliers above their heads. But many of those within reach weren’t whole, more like jagged, broken spears, scattered chunks tossed about on the cavern floor. “What a shame,” Ruth said. “Men did this.”
It was odd, but when she turned her head lamp away from the formations, reflecting light at her, the chamber seemed dark, too dark, and quiet, her voice alien in the dead air. She realized she was afraid.
“You okay, Ruth?”
“Yeah, sure,” she said a little too brightly to Sherlock. “Look at that weird formation. It looks like a casket.”
“Thanks for pointing that out,” Chappy said. “Makes me feel all warm inside. Beautiful, though, isn’t it? Too bad some people can’t leave beautiful things alone.”
It was odd, Ruth thought, but she had to struggle with herself to walk forward, afraid to find out what had happened to her here, if this was indeed the chamber. But of course it was since someone had gone to all the trouble of sealing up the entrance.
“It’s longer than you thought, Chappy,” Dix said as he walked farther into the cavern, his head lamp lighting up the shadowy walls near him. “Ruth, you think the arch might be over to your right? You want to take a look?”
No, she didn’t even want to move. She felt like she was buried alive and the air was running out and she would suffocate. She wanted to run back out of this airless black chamber with its secrets, wanted to run along that long ledge until she could climb back out into the daylight. She schooled herself not to breathe too hard. She stood very quietly, surrounded by the weaving splashes of light from all the head lamps, and made herself draw in air, slowly, and slower still. She felt a hitch in her throat and she shivered. It was cold in there, colder than it should be.
She drew in another deep breath. Good, she could do that. She was being ridiculous. She made herself turn and walk along the right-hand wall of the cavern. The arch would be there, and she would know once and for all if this was the place where—What? There was still a black hole in her brain, as black as the hole in which she stood. She focused her head lamp on the wall but couldn’t see any opening. She remembered taking steps before, too many steps that didn’t lead anywhere. Circles, she’d probably taken steps in circles, gone round and round, faster and faster. She shook her head again. She remembered the steps ending, but how was that possible?
She stumbled, went down on her hands and knees, and felt a jab of pain in her palm. She’d hit a sharp piece of fallen limestone. She looked at her hand, shook it. It wasn’t bad, she hadn’t cut through her glove. Other than the scattered limestone, the floor was surprisingly smooth. There was something, a small round object, on the floor at the edge of her head lamp light. She crawled over it to get a better look.
It was her compass.
A vivid memory seared through her. Her compass. She’d thrown it away in a moment of what? Anger? Frustration? She’d thrown it away because it had lied to her, given her directions that were impossible. She’d thrown it away because she was afraid.
She called out in a voice that didn’t sound like hers, “I found my compass. I remember I dropped it here. This is the chamber all right.”
They surrounded her in a moment. Dix took her hand and pulled her up. He took the compass from her, laid it flat on his palm, studied it. “It still seems to be working.”
She swallowed. “When I was in here, it was all squirrelly.” She was shaking her head. “No, I didn’t drop it, I threw it as far away from me as I could.”
