| |
NIGHTTIME ENDED when I was no longer able to ignore the stomping of my father’s feet. Through the slits between my eyelids, I sluggishly watched as he paced back and forth along the pool of water at the base of the Falls. He led with his heels, his hands clasped behind his back. Stomp, stomp, stomp.
I couldn’t blame him. He’d spent more than enough time behind the Falls to have contracted a serious case of cabin fever. I could only imagine how much he wanted to get out, how much restraint he showed by not running off and leaving without us.
Yawning, I sat up and stretched forward, feeling my back and hamstrings loosen as I reached for my toes.
I glanced over at Valcas who was still fast asleep, despite my father’s stomping. His mattress was still parked next to mine. He lay there, facing me, with his eyelids shut and his lips relaxed into a loose smile.
My father cleared his throat. Right behind me. I jumped, not knowing whether I’d tuned out his stomping while eyeing Valcas, or if he’d tiptoed to the space behind me.
“Good morning,” I said, trying not to look or sound guilty. Not that I felt guilty. It wasn’t like I’d done anything wrong. Still... Despite looking years younger than Mom, my father was an intimidating man. From what I’d observed, he was gentle only when he needed to be, which was usually when he was healing.
“I expect Valcas was up most of the night studying the air space inside the Falls,” he said. “Do we wake him or do we let him rest?”
“Oh,” I said. “He came to bed sometime in the middle of the night.”
My father raised his eyebrows. His soft blue-green eyes darkened as he glowered down at me. “Came to bed?”
“Ugh, nothing like that.” I grudgingly crawled up out of my mattress and waved my arms in front of me as if I were trying to dissolve the awkwardness hanging in the air between us.
“Nothing like what?” my father said, narrowing his eyes.
“He wanted to talk to me about what he found in the air layer,” I said, rolling my eyes. “We were trying to be quiet so we didn’t wake up Ray and Ivory, who are in here with us.”
My father nodded. “And?”
“And nothing,” I said, still flustered. “I was having a weird dream and Valcas woke me up. He was worried about me.” I wondered what his problem was. Who was he to start acting all fatherly after having known me for less than a month? Valcas and I hadn’t even kissed.
My father’s face reddened. His lips started to shake at the corners. My eyes opened into round circles as I waited for the storm. Just as his face was about to turn purple, he started to laugh. He laughed so hard that he doubled over and knelt on the ground, grasping his knee with his hand to keep from falling over.
“What?” I said.
“And... what did Valcas find while studying the Falls?”
“Oh,” I said, feeling completely stupid. “He said he saw vines along one of the walls. We could use them to climb up the wall instead of having to spend forever digging out a ladder.”
My father nodded. “That is wonderful news.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I’m, um, going to go wash up then and finish packing in case we’re able to leave today. I’m sure Valcas can fill you in on the details when he wakes up.” Still embarrassed, I turned to escape through the tunnel.
“Calidora—”
I turned back at the mention of my name. My father had said it so softly and with so much affection, that I wasn’t sure what to make of it. “Yes?”
He smiled, his eyes sparkling. “I trust you... and Valcas... to make the right decisions. There is a reason I trust him with your life. There’s also a reason that I trust you with his heart.”
I drew in a slow breath. Okay. Having nothing else to say I nodded and quickly headed through the tunnels toward the latrine.
***
WHEN I RETURNED FROM my brief escape, I had just enough time to finish packing my backpack. We decided to take Valcas’ advice about taking our mattresses with us into the air space. I strapped the TSTA watch to my wrist. We packed in ten minutes.
Valcas and Ray went through the Falls first, to catch the rest of us as we came through so we wouldn’t accidentally run through the fire layer and get burned. If that were to happen, we were fortunate enough to have easy access to the balm layer to heal. But why bother getting burned in the first place?
My father entered the Falls next, then Ivory.
I entered the Falls last.
When my turn came, I took a couple of deep breaths, filling my body with as much oxygen as possible, like a bodybuilder pumping herself up before a round of heavy reps. I held the last breath, which I hoped would last long enough for me to get through both the water and balm layers. Now that I wasn’t burning from head to toe, getting flooded with healing goo—which separated my lungs from the air I needed to breathe—didn’t sound so good.
I closed my eyes and stiffly walked forward, restraining myself from breaking into a run, although I desperately wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.
The water layer rained down on me with greater force than I’d remembered, dousing me completely with cold, fresh water. I ground my teeth together to keep them from chattering.
A half dozen strides later, I reached the next layer, the balm layer. I felt my foot press into a wall that wobbled and stretched before giving in to the pressure of my foot and letting it break through. When it did, I felt the surface snap and my foot being sucked in like a vacuum. I staggered forward, reaching out. But there was nothing to catch or hold on to. The gooey gelatinous blob found my hand, pulling it and the rest of my body through, until I was completely submerged in the balm layer.
Convinced that my face was turning blue from lack of oxygen, I felt my chest contract. I needed air. I needed to breathe. I stepped forward, and then stepped forward again, and again.
I don’t know why I felt I needed to fight the balm layer. When we’d come through the Fire Falls, I welcomed the sensation of the balm layer, and how it filled my eyes and my lungs. This time, though, I resisted. My lungs begged me to give in; every cell in my body screamed at me to inhale.
I was sure I’d black out from lack of oxygen. This time I was afraid—afraid of my air passages filling with liquid, afraid to lose control, afraid to let go...