Sam’s flashlight was beginning to wane as they crossed a stone bridge near the far side. He slowed, and he and Remi exchanged a worried look. “Let’s see if your light made it through the river intact.”
She removed it from her waistband and tried it, but no light greeted the click of the switch. “It’s dead. Better hurry up.”
“Lazlo?” Sam asked.
“I’m afraid I lost track of mine while going for my dip,” he said.
Sam studied the beam’s waning intensity and pointed it toward the next connecting passage. “Then we’ve got no time to waste.”
The ground sloped upward as they entered the long tunnel-like cave. Sam led them hurriedly through the maze of stalagmites that jutted from the floor like fangs. The precious light faded with every step. The flashlight was dimming to the point where it was more a comfort than an illumination when they found themselves in another large cavern, with a glimmering pool of water at the far end. Sam was halfway to the water when the batteries died and they were plunged into complete darkness. He reached out his hand to Remi, who sensed his proximity and took it. She repeated the gesture with Lazlo, and together they crept slowly nearer to the water’s edge.
“Now what?” Remi asked when Sam stopped.
“We rest while we figure out our next move,” Sam said.
Remi bit her tongue, as did Lazlo—there was nothing to say that would help their situation and complaints wouldn’t do any good.
They sat down, and Remi leaned forward to touch the surface of the pool. The water was cool, and, after sniffing her fingers, she cupped her hand and brought some to her lips.
“It’s fresh,” she whispered. “Which means it’s being fed by a source.”
“At least we won’t die of thirst,” Lazlo muttered.
“We’re not going to die,” Sam said, conviction in his voice, as he peered around the cave.
“That’s reassuring, but it would be more so if we knew where we were or had any hope of finding a way out,” Lazlo groused.
Sam ignored him as he slowly stood. “Remi, is it my imagination or is there a tiny bit of light coming from about three-quarters up the wall to our right?”
Remi’s eyes scanned the same direction. “I don’t see anything.”
Lazlo shook his head in the dark. “Afraid not, old man.”
“I’m sure I see something. I’m going to try to get up there. There’s a rubble pile along that wall. Hopefully, it will support me,” Sam said.
“Are you sure rock climbing in the dark is a good idea?” Remi asked softly.
“What’s plan B?”
Sam felt along the edge of the water, following it around to where it met the cave wall. He steeled himself as he willed his eyes to adjust, but he couldn’t see his hand in front of him—only a pin spot of faint light from somewhere up the jumble of rocks and debris, now gone due to the angle. Unless it was all a hallucination.
Sam instinctively glanced at where his watch would have been if his captors hadn’t stripped it from him and swore under his breath. He had no idea how long they’d been prisoners, much less in the caves. It felt like at least half a day, possibly more, and he realized that he didn’t know whether it was still light out or not—or whether the light he believed he’d seen was a new dawn or some new unthought-of danger.
Sam felt along the rock pile, testing the rubble for stability, before pulling himself up a few feet. Visions of venomous snakes nesting in the crannies flashed through his imagination, as his fingers touched the edges of another rock, and he willed the image away.
He heaved himself up another couple of inches, but one of the rocks he was using to stabilize his feet gave way and he slipped in a shower of gravel and dust, scraping his hands as he grappled for a hold. His fingers locked onto another, larger rock and he stopped his fall, taking a moment to catch his breath once he was sure he wasn’t in any immediate danger.
Remi’s voice floated across the water to him. “Are you okay?”
“Just a little slip. Wouldn’t be any fun if there wasn’t a challenge to it, right?” Sam said.
He’d give anything for thirty more seconds of light, but those were the breaks. If he ever wanted to see anything again, he’d have to earn it.
Another hold, another few inches of progress, then another, and another, as he painstakingly moved up the rubble pile, the occasional clatter of a loose stone tumbling to the bottom his only reward. As Sam ascended, he noticed that the rocks were getting smaller and he allowed himself the luxury of hope—perhaps on the other side of the imposing wall lay freedom and the landslide he was now climbing had created a breach in the stone.
He groped with his left hand above him and edged higher and then stopped, afraid to breathe. Just above his head was a chink in the rocks. Only a hairline crack, but he could smell jungle wafting through it—and he could feel the humid heat of the outdoors, faint but real.
Sam felt for any loose rocks and was able to shift a football-sized stone half an inch. He worked it back and forth and a scant moment later the rock fell down the pile, leaving a hole he could just fit his arm through—and from which drifted the unmistakable rustling of vines and dim glow of moonlight.