CHAPTER 13

 

Stella stroked Jill’s golden hair, soothing her as she mumbled in her sleep. Across from them Colin stared down at his sister, his face solemn, his shoulders struggling to sustain an unimaginable burden. In the corner, Don sat with his knees tucked up under his chin, his arms wrapped around his legs. He rocked slightly.

“They say they’re going to hold a service.”

Don’s voice sounded dispassionate. He spoke mechanically.

“Dad,” Colin tried to soothe.

“But, your mother won’t be present. They tell me it will be too difficult on me. They let me say my goodbyes in person, though, before they took her away.”

Jill sobbed, and Stella tried to quell her shaking.

“Took her where?” Colin frowned.

“They’re going to let her go. Back into the sea that should have claimed her to begin with. The ground here cannot be dug for an adequate burial.”

Jill clamped her hands over her ears and Stella guided her so that she reclined against her chest, where she could hug her. Stella felt each quiver and imagined how devastated she would be at the loss of her mother. Knowing that her mother was alive and safe in the world above gave her some peace.

Colin’s expression was stark as he studied his father. Stella agreed with his concerns. Grief was an all-consuming beast, but this air of submission was unexpected. Even now Donald Wexler seemed disconnected. After all, shouldn’t he be holding his daughter? Consoling her?

Stella shook her head to toss her doubts aside. There was no defined etiquette down here. There was just survival. Physical …and mental.

“We’ll be there,” she vowed quietly.

It was a somber event, made bizarre by the attire of the inhabitants in this macabre mythological world. Sarah in her grey nurse’s uniform, Margie in her tan Capri pants and a tight royal blue blouse. Loren in her snug jeans and a black tank top. She was the only one wearing black to the funeral.

Stella’s thoughts were muddled. She needed to get out of here. Across the way, Jill was being comforted by Daniel, the dour-looking guy from the cruise ship. He made Stella nervous, but Jill had assured that he was just shy. Donald stood between Etienne and Frederic as if the two men were there to catch him should he fall in grief…or run.

She cast a desperate glance towards Colin, who managed to look stoic in his shorts and t-shirt. He met her eyes and tipped his head. Tonight. When this was all over they would resume their search. The urgency for answers had increased. So much so that when the somber event broke up, Stella followed Etienne, cornering the sailor after he parted with his wife in front of the infirmary.

“Sarah stays in the infirmary?” she asked boldly. “Even when there are no patients?”

Etienne stopped and regarded her with a tolerant smile.

“She works on inventory. She is sorting through the latest haul to see what can be useful for our continued health.”

A very practical response, but Stella hated the sanctimonious delivery.

“An icepack would be handy. I could have used that for my bruised arm.”

Stella knew she was challenging the man. She didn’t care. She was hurting and there was nothing in Sarah’s haul that could fix this kind of pain.

“Alas,” Etienne shook his head. “Ice is one thing we can’t preserve down here. And your injury–” he nodded at her now healthy arm, “could have been prevented if you didn’t stray past the waterfall. The terrain is not stable there. Stay away from it and perhaps Sarah will not have to work so hard.”

Was he counseling her, or was it a threat?

“Then tell me what’s back there,” she challenged.

She was curious to hear his interpretation. She had a feeling he would spew out Frederic’s depiction identically.

“You’re too close to the vents back there. The further you progress, the more danger it holds.”

“Yet, it’s safe enough for you to go back there and fish?”

“It is not safe,” he corrected, his lips thinning. They barely formed a white stripe across his mouth. “But we need to eat. By the grace of God we found a food source back there. We take great care to preserve it, and ourselves. We can’t have anyone jeopardizing that.”

Stella decided to drop the battle. Etienne would be watching out for her now. That kind of scrutiny would hurt their nighttime surveillance.

“You’re right,” she conceded. “I was just curious. I’m studying for journalism,” she added lamely.

Etienne continued to stare, unconvinced. Finally, his white lips angled up. “Perhaps you can do a paper for here. Local news. Girl goes missing behind the waterfall.”

It was a sad attempt at a joke, heavily laced with menace, but she forced herself to smile.

“Sure, the Underworld Post,” she suggested.

Etienne nodded. “If you want to see the fishing process. I will take you back there myself.”

Was that a peace offering? Stella decided to treat it as such.

“I’d like that,” she replied sincerely. “Just let me know when.”

Etienne glanced up the trail towards the crow’s nest. “All right. For now,” he added, “we best keep an eye on your friend’s father. I know he is grieving, but I also see signs of the atmosphere disagreeing with him. That is why Sarah is busy preparing.”

Stella shut her notebook and stowed it beneath the folded blanket that served as her pillow. Today’s entry was somber and poignant. She squeezed her eyes shut and thought of her mother.

“Mom, I think the garage door is coming down.”

Caroline pressed her face against the driver’s side window as she backed out of their garage.

“I don’t see it.”

“I hear it. It doesn’t sound right.” Stella reached to turn off the radio.

As soon as the music stopped they heard and felt the thunk.

“What the hell?” Caroline frowned.

She tapped the gas to continue in reverse, but the car would not budge. She switched gears and tried to roll forward. Nothing.

Now they could see the garage door suspended above them.

Caroline got out, careful to duck her head. Stella did the same. The roof of the red Corolla was pinned beneath the garage door, the mechanical gate now making a sickly whirring sound.

Their eyes met over the dented aluminum roof. Caroline looked fraught for a minute, and then a snort escaped her nose. It was followed by gushing laughter. One thing her mom could do was laugh. Loud. Hard. Embarrassing.

Stella glanced down the street to see if anyone heard, but even though the houses on this lane were built on top of each other, miraculously no one was out and about.

Looking up at the vise that clutched the Corolla like a mouse in an eagle’s talons, Stella heard her mother claim, “Well, this sucks.”

Stella burst into loud, hard, embarrassing laughter too.

Grounding her palms into her eyes, Stella tried to quell the burning inside them. She crawled over to where Jill lie sleeping, worried about the shadows ringing her friend’s closed eyelids. Seeing Jill like this strengthened Stella’s resolve. She rose quietly and approached the window, gazing out on the empty walkways of the Underworld. No sign of Colin, but that was not surprising. He wasn’t likely to stand in the middle of the café, blaring on a trumpet.

From this perspective she could not see Etienne and Sarah’s shack. The infirmary was dark. No sign of the nurse there. Stella crouched and crept out into the eternal night.

Colin emerged from the shadows, startling her.

“Is she okay?” he asked quietly.

Stella nodded, glancing back towards the wheelhouse. “She was exhausted. How about you? I didn’t get to say it to you yet, but Col, I’m so sorry.”

His dark gaze fled to the ground. “I haven’t really come to terms with it yet. It’s all still surreal.”

Encouraging words were on the edge of her tongue when Colin’s head snapped up.

“Someone is out here,” he warned in a low tone.

Stella’s skin prickled. She strained to see any movement. There was a faint scuff of shoe on dirt nearby.

Colin bent to whisper near her ear. “It’s okay. I see who it is.”

Who?

The question remained mute as she saw a slim shadow approach. Long black hair perpetuated the mystique.

“Colin,” Loren’s voice was quiet as she advanced. She gave Stella a brief nod. “Stella.”

Stella dipped her head in acknowledgement, but worried that this intrusion would ruin their search plans for the night. Not to mention the rogue pang of jealousy the young woman stirred.

“Colin,” Loren kept her tone low, “I need to see you for a moment.”

Colin looked startled. “Okay. What’s up?”

Running a pale hand up into her inky hair, Loren looked up at him from under her bangs. “I mean, when you have a minute alone.”

He glanced sideways at Stella.

Stella raised her hands and started backing up. “No worries,” she whispered and hooked her thumb behind her. “I’m just going to head back–”

Loren watched her with dark almond eyes, but said nothing.

“Stel, don’t–,” Colin stopped himself. “I’ll be over shortly.”

“Yeah, cool.” She waved him off, turning back towards her wheelhouse.

She could feel his eyes on her back, but she had her pride. She didn’t look back. Let him have his chat with Felicia–oh, Loren.

When she reached her bungalow, Stella finally peered over her shoulder. Colin and Loren were retreating in the other direction.

Ducking into the wheelhouse, confirming that Jill was still fast asleep, Stella stood with her hands fisted at her sides and sighed.

Now what?

Where were they going? Did she wait for him? Would there be enough time to explore before the bell rang?

Pacing in a tight circle, she poked her head out the door, but could no longer see the couple. Her gaze swung in the opposite direction–the trail leading towards the waterfall. It was empty. Everything was quiet. To waste this opportunity would be a shame, and an exercise of patience that she would fail.

Stella checked on Jill one more time and then headed outside, dodging into shadows to keep from view. They were running out of time. She was sure of it. They had lost one person today. A woman who Stella had come to love. There was no time to wait until another was gone. She had to find a way out of the Underworld. And it looked like she had to do it alone.

If there was any advantage to the time they had spent down here, it was her growing experience with the snaking caverns. Each foray past the waterfall inspired more confidence. The fact that she had no more encounters with freaky shadow figures was beginning to convince her that maybe she had suffered from a bit of CO2 acclimation.

According to the calendar that Frederic maintained, they had been down here for over three weeks. That same calendar marked the Underworld’s new year as only a week away.

Well, there would be no midnight kisses for her. There would never be any kisses if she was damned to this eternity.

Anger motivated her. Her steps became more nimble as she ventured beyond the point she and Colin had last travelled. Her agility was short-lived once the trail grew rugged. If she lost her balance on the slick surface, any attempt to right herself would meet with a sharp rock or serrated slab. Already she had drawn blood when she tripped over a rut in the path. It could hardly be considered a path now. Only instinct guided her in this direction, following the natural channel and the increasing heat.

Somewhere around here was the fishing pool. She was fascinated by the pools as they seemed the only viable source of escape. To keep the darkness at bay and her sanity intact, she began to recite them.

There was the grotto that she had first surfaced in. Further down that same tunnel was a smaller pool, which Anne Wexler had washed up in. There was the fishing pool, which she was supposedly very close to. Conversations with Etienne and Frederic indicated there was an additional pool or pools responsible for providing oxygen throughout this cave system, but were in areas too hot to be reached.

A loud clatter sounded to her right.

Stella swung the torch in that direction to find a collapsed stalactite, its column broken into pieces on the dirt floor. She tipped her head back and located the severed post on the low ceiling. The circumference of the channel narrowed in this wing of the caves. The stalactites dangled precariously close over her head. If she had been standing one foot to the right–

Brushing aside that disturbing thought, she shifted the torch again to confirm her path. Debris now riddled much of the ground. The trail she thought she was following all but disappeared. She inched forward with the flames casting rippling sparks across a moon-like terrain. Although the ground she stood on was level, she seemed to be barricaded on all sides by large boulders.

The first twinge of panic clutched her lungs. Towards her left there was no defined avenue. She pivoted completely around and was unsure which way she had come. Spotting the only viable gap in the stones, she aimed for it and tread gingerly through the narrow breach. Abrasions stung her toes. Sandals weren’t the type of gear for trekking like this.

Continuing towards the cave wall, she felt it would act as a constant–a guide to get back. The River Styx would have been the best escort, but she lost sight of it a while ago. Trailing her fingertips along the mottled limestone, she felt the warm mist that clung to it. When her fingers met air, she halted. Disoriented, she didn’t know if this gap represented a new corridor, or if it was the way back.

Thrusting the torch into the black chasm she knew she had not been here before. The ceiling was conical, almost like a pyramid. It was void of any limestone daggers, and the floor, what she could see of it, seemed clear–just packed earth. It wasn’t a large chamber. The alcove had about a twenty-foot circumference. From what she could tell there was no alternative exit. One way in. One way out.

Something rested against the wall in the near corner. With a hasty glimpse over her shoulder, Stella swung the torch forward and took a few cautious steps inside the chamber. A long shadow sliced through the center of the alcove–a pit or a hole that she circled to avoid. Approaching the pile of rocks she saw stacked against the wall, she stooped to get a closer look and choked on fear.

On the ground, propped against the wall was nearly a complete human skeleton. The skull was missing and one leg, but the ribcage was clearly defined, as well as the hip bones and a rather long femur. Stumbling back from the carcass, her right foot caught the edge of the pit behind her. In an attempt to regain her balance, she dropped the torch and flailed her arms, falling backwards into the hole.

It wasn’t deep, thank God. Even now she was sitting up, her eyes even with the torch abandoned on the floor. Her fall was cushioned by gravel, or twigs.

Twigs?

Stella scrambled onto her knees and reached for the torch. She held it above her and squealed in terror.

They weren’t twigs.

She had fallen into a pit of bones.