BREAKDOWN
2,595 feet below the surface
After miles of gently winding between sand dunes, the stream drained into a hole in the canyon wall. The trio of cavers followed it, soon emerging into the familiar waters of the serpentine river. Newly deposited silt rose up in blossoming clouds behind every footfall as they waded downstream. It was as though the river had turned chameleon, the copper-flecked greens transmuting to earthy hues as they trekked ever deeper. Milo couldn’t help but remember what Dale had said: that subterranean waters marked the final delineation between the world of man and next.
They sloshed through in waist-deep waters for hours. Milo regretted he’d once compared the system to a Parisian sewer. No, the serpentine river was no French drainpipe; it was a thing more ancient and astounding altogether.
Holding their breath, the three swam under the lowest ceiling until the passageway opened to the full breadth of the flooded cathedral, spike-studded ceiling now three hundred feet above. Before them stood the statue-like stone edifice, the towering figure in shadow like a winged angel, a frozen crystal pillar pouring from its heart and into the waters below.
“Indescribable, isn’t it?” asked Dale.
“Every time I see this formation, I think of the Book of Genesis,” said Bridget, staring at the natural figure with reverence. “Chapter three, final verse . . . so the Lord drove out man, and he placed at the gate of the Garden of Eden an angel with a flaming sword.”
“Lord Riley DeWar would agree with you,” Milo murmured. “He wrote about a stone figure with a crystal saber, carved by nature herself.”
“He had quite the talent for the dramatic,” added Dale. “Pity he never returned to write about his underground exploits.”
As they paused, the trio watched the motionless stone under the dimming illumination of Dale’s headlamp.
“Are you ready?” asked Milo, looking toward the stone pipe organ that stood atop the flooded passage to the inner sanctum.
Bridget pursed her lips before nodding. “Keep track of your pants this time,” she said. “I’m not swimming after them twice.”
Milo caught Dale stifling a smirk before they all dove, kicking through the crystal clear waters, sharp rocks nipping at Milo’s clothes and boots as he pulled himself through the flooded tunnel to the next chamber, Bridget and Dale following inches from his heels.
The three surfaced simultaneously, bursting from the water with ragged gasps. The room remained untouched by the flood, the small peaked island at the center of the chamber still adorned by the altar and ivory masks. Below them, the massive boulders of the collapsed ceiling rippled beneath diminishing waves.
Milo and Bridget swam to the island, pulling themselves ashore as Dale treaded water behind them. The warm golden light beneath had grown in intensity since their previous visits, rays bursting from between the rocks and erupting from the surface of the subterranean lake.
Dale clicked off his headlamp. “Got to conserve every milliamp,” he said. “We have a few hours of power left, tops.”
The first wave of familiar dizziness washed over Milo. The chamber was sauna-warm, feverish heat crawling across his skin as his perception flooded with a deluge of memories. Roughly grabbing him by his neck, Bridget pressed her mouth to his as Dale turned away, Milo’s evaporating mind almost succumbing to the rapture of the golden glow. But then she pulled away.
“You think we can make it to the other side of the rocks?” whispered Bridget, leaving Milo dangling over the edge of cognitive abyss. She pointed straight down, toward the submerged golden light.
“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But I think we ought to try.”
Bridget nodded and peeled off her shirt to a sports bra and unzipped her pants. “What?” she demanded, realizing both Dale and Milo were watching her with a somewhat bewildered expression. “I don’t want to get my clothes caught up on the rocks—besides, it’s too hot in here anyway.”
“Good thinking,” said Milo, shrugging as he unbuttoned the shredded remains of his shirt, joining her as he stripped down to his underwear.
“Are we ready for this?” asked Bridget, hands pausing over her half-removed trousers. “Really ready? Milo, we’re sailing off the edge of the world here. We could get stuck, drown. Even if we make it to the other side, we could go insane or die instantly. Whatever is affecting us might be filtered through forty feet of water. We have no idea what total exposure does.”
Milo looked deep into Bridget’s eyes, weighing every crease on her worried face, every dark strand of loose hair, every moment the two had ever shared.
“We’re out of options,” Milo whispered. “There is something at work down here that we don’t understand. Seeing this through is our only shot at staying alive. Could you really turn around, so close to learning what lies on the other side?”
Bridget closed her eyes and turned from him, hiding her face. “Yes,” she finally said in a very small voice. “I’d turn around if it meant I could keep you this time.”
Milo grasped Bridget with both arms, rocking her, holding her so tightly he thought they might both burst. “Never again,” he swore. “I’ll never take another step into the unknown without you—we have to see this through together.”
Dale cleared his throat, tears in his eyes as he stood on the edge of the island. He hadn’t so much as unbuttoned his shirt.
“You’re not coming?” asked Bridget.
Dale just shook his head. “I don’t have a chance at surviving that swim, not with the busted wrist. I’ll wait for you as long as I can, and then I’m going to push for the surface, alone if I have to. All I can do is wish you both Godspeed. Please don’t make me leave without you.”
Bridget nodded, her face buried in Milo’s chest. Together, the pair began to breathe faster and faster, hyper-oxygenating their blood in preparation for the final dive. Pulling away, they abandoned the last of their clothes as Milo counted down.
“On three,” he whispered. “One . . . two . . . three.”
Milo and Bridget leapt from the rocks and into the water, Dale’s still figure disappearing into the froth of bubbles behind them. Kicking hard, Milo passed ten feet, twenty, pinching his nose to equalize his ears. By thirty feet, his lungs were bursting within his pain-wracked chest, his pulse pounding in his ears like hammer.
Forty feet under the surface of the black lake, Milo’s fingers touched the bottom. He pulled himself across the broken, jagged rocks, wriggling into the biggest gap between them, his body scratched and dragging against the stones, the golden light now blinding.
Palm grasping for a handhold, Milo felt a sudden slick softness. He yanked back a fistful of the strange texture. Silhouetted by the light, the dark shape before him suddenly twitched, blocking his path as it rotated to reveal a thick human body. Milo panicked, irreplaceable bubbles running from his mouth as Dr. Logan Flowers’s swollen, wide-eyed face turned toward him.
Desperate hands clawed across his back—Bridget had made her way into the passage behind him. Unable to turn around, he shoved himself further forward, toward the dead man. He’d read drowned cavers were always stuck in the tightest, worst sections, impossible to extract. Trapped, Logan’s corpse now blocked the only path.
Summoning all his strength, Milo grasped Logan’s torso underneath the armpits, pulling with all his might. He could see it now—the geologist’s limp arm caught between two rocks, rending his entire body immovable. Bracing his legs, Milo bubbled in frustration as he pulled again, air streaming between gritted teeth, joints popping, spine exploding in pain. With a dull pop, Logan’s bloated arm separated at the shoulder, ripping free in a brown gout of liquid decomposition. The path unblocked, Milo slithered through, Bridget close behind.
The pair burst into a flooded corridor, finally free of the rocky debris pile. Clinging to the ceiling, they pushed themselves along the hundred-foot length, gaining speed with every desperate thrust.
And then they were clear of the rocks and into open waters, the blinding illumination their only guide. The last of his dark vision closing, Milo involuntarily sucked in little gasps of water as he kicked and clawed for air, making for the surface.
With one final push, Milo broke the waters, emerging into a world of pure golden light.