Beneath Page 6

  That Colin was still on the surface, though. As was she, she imagined. Down here only somber reflections of themselves remained.

  He flicked his wrist. The face of his watch was nicked and the screen remained black.

  “All right,” he agreed in a brusque voice. “I’d like some time with my family to discuss what you’ve told us.”

  “Of course,” Etienne smiled, but the warmth could not thaw his eyes.

  “I know how anxious you are,” Frederic assured. “This–” his pointer finger swirled above his head. “–this is overwhelming. You will be in a stage of denial for a long time. Don’t fight that. Embrace it. Because when you finally accept this place–”

  Then we become ghosts like you.

  Stella spared him from completing the sentence. She was anxious to get away.

  “We’ll see you later,” she muttered over her shoulder as she started to negotiate the gritty path down to the cave floor.

  Manners ruled her haste just long enough for her to add, “Thank you.”

  As soon as she and Colin were halfway down the slope, she vowed, “I’m not eating worms.”

  To her surprise, Colin chuckled. It was brief and when she swung her head to look, his sober expression was back again.

  “Honestly, I have to sit down. I have to digest this before I face Dad. Can we stop in one of our cabins for a moment?”

  “Sure.” She shrugged her shoulders. “It’ll give me a chance to unpack.”

  This time she caught Colin’s grin. He slowed to a halt and regarded her with that haunting smirk.

  “You’re either taking this remarkably well, or I have to worry about checking you into the infirmary.”

  Stella laughed, because after all, this situation was off the charts.

  “You don’t have to worry about my state of mind, Col,” she assured. “I just–I don’t know how to deal with all this.”

  They reached the bottom of the path where she noticed a corroded metal box standing waist-high, the screwed panels knocked loose to reveal a series of notched wheels inside. Circling around it, she snorted and pointed.

  “Like this.”

  Colin stepped around and joined her. He shook his head as they stared at the slot machine forever stuck at two cherries and a muddy orange. The arm must have broken off. Seaweed wrapped around the first wheel, nearly obscuring the cherries.

  “Did we die, Col?” she asked, feeling defeated. “Did we die, and this is it for us?”

  “I felt the same, Stel, but no, we’re very much alive.”

  She jolted when she felt his hand slide under her hair and his fingertips touched her throat.

  “See,” he said. “There’s a pulse.”

  Heat exploded around her neck, but Colin quickly withdrew his hand, while clearing his throat. He even took a step back.

  “We have to face facts,” he stated huskily. “It’s up to us to either find a way out of here, or–”

  “Or what? Become one of them? Stay down in this obscure hell for forty more years?”

  “Stella, we’re just taking this all in. When I say it’s up to us. I mean you and me. You are strong. I didn’t know that about you. Jill, Jill is not.” His glance strayed to the ancient aircraft belly with the red cross hanging in the window.

  “And Dad is distraught at the moment.” He turned back to face her and she was locked by soulful dark eyes. “I need you. We need to figure this out logically.”

  Stella swallowed. Colin needed her. She suddenly felt mature beyond her years.

  Deliberating for a second, she said. “Okay, let’s go check out these cabins and see if they are something we can get Jill and your dad to for some rest. We’ll check on your mom, and then we’ll go to Neptune’s Bistro and meet the other denizens of the shadows.”

  The corner of Colin’s mouth hefted up into a grin. “Atta girl.” He gave a friendly punch to her shoulder.

  Oh bah. Back to the little sister dabs on the shoulder? What about those fingers on my neck only seconds ago?

  She searched his eyes for any sign–any glimpse of attraction. Shaking her head, she silently condemned her stupidity.

  “What?” Colin asked, concerned.

  “Nothing. Let’s just get going.”

  There were more important things to concentrate on than her childish crush. Her earlier assessment that she felt mature beyond her years was dead on, though. Young Stella, the college freshman–the wannabe journalist with chronic curiosity was left behind. Down here was born Stella the survivalist. And she needed Colin as her ally. Nothing more.

  And that was just fine.

  Trudging past him without a word, Stella started towards the orange cargo trailer. She sensed him hesitate, but soon heard the crunch of his sneakers against limestone.

  “Whoa.”

  Stella halted at Colin’s exclamation. She looked over her shoulder to find him staring into the shadows beneath the basketball pole. A volleyball rolled across the flat sandy surface towards them. Colin stopped it with his foot, still searching the man-made court.

  “I saw someone here before,” she whispered. “Or, at least I think I did.”

  Colin lingered a moment, gazing into the shadows.

  “Come on,” she encouraged. “If there is someone here, I’m sure we’ll meet them soon.”

  “Why would they wait? Are they spying on us? Come out!” he challenged.

  “Colin, don’t rile the natives,” she warned. “Let’s just see what these accommodations are like.”

  Colin turned away and as he did so Stella stooped to grab the volleyball. With one quick hoist she shot it through the netless ring, and then quickly trotted after him.

  The rusty storage container appeared around the curve of the mount. One side was closed by a large plank of plywood. The other side was serrated, but the sharp edges were secured by the circular wheelhouse shoved tight against the metal, creating a whimsical front porch. Shards of tarp hung in the paneless windows.

  “Charming,” Stella muttered as she reached for the doorknob.

  “Hey, hold on.” Colin moved in beside her.

  She gaped up at him, aware of his body so close.

  “You think something is going to jump out at me?” she asked with forced humor.

  “You don’t?” he countered.

  She could have argued that she could handle it herself, but she wasn’t going to turn down this close proximity.

  Colin cautiously tugged on the door, not so much for what he feared was behind it, rather that it seemed fragile enough to break. A musty stench assaulted them.

  “I’d suggest opening the windows, but–” Stella poked her hand through the glassless frame.

  It was dark inside. Of course no lights, but no candles either. The ambient light came from a torch lit just outside the window. One of many lining the carved lane.

  Within the rounded pilot house sat a chrome-legged chair with a torn red vinyl seat. It faced the bank of window frames enabling someone to sit and enjoy the peculiar view. Further in was a simple desk with a shattered mirror resting atop it.

  Stella stepped up to it and jolted. The segmented reflection was the first she had seen of herself since looking in a mirror after a hasty shower before meeting up with the Wexlers. There had been no time to dry her hair, and makeup was pointless on the ocean. Saltwater stripped it away.

  That image in her bathroom was much more vibrant than what she witnessed now. Now, long dark hair clung to her high cheekbones, while the bottom frizzed in the humidity. Eyes that were normally a deep brown looked nearly black without any light to ignite them. Friends at school used to challenge, if you’re Swedish, why aren’t you blonde and blue-eyed? She could have argued that half the Swedish population bore dark features. She could have argued that she was only half Swedish. She didn’t argue, though. It was never worth it.

  Pink lips were dissected by a crack in the reflection as if they were scarred. Her red tank top was nearly dry, but her shorts were s
till uncomfortably damp. There was a trace of the summer tan in her slim arms and long legs. She was tall and thin, which always made her feel gangly next to her petite best friend. Total opposites, she and Jill. One tall and dark. One small and fair. But there was a link in the personalities that rang true.

  A shadow formed behind her reflection. Colin’s chest emerged as he stepped up behind her. Here was someone taller than her. Here was someone who made her feel petite. Their eyes met in the mirror. There were no platitudes offered this time–no false assurances that everything would be all right.

  Now there was just this sobering connection. Stella’s lip trembled. For the first time since surfacing in the cave she felt tears inch up behind her eyes.

  Colin read her face. He raised his hand and it hovered over her arm. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then broke away to inspect the rest of the cabin.

  “Well, isn’t this just charming,” she declared in a thick voice.

  On the earthen floor lay a mattress with a blanket folded atop it. Beside it was another pile of blankets.

  “No way.” She stumbled backwards. “There is no way I am sleeping on that thing.”

  Colin crouched down and jabbed the mattress. No dust erupted. He stooped further and sniffed.

  “A little musty,” he remarked.

  “Ya think?”

  He rose and swiped his hands. “Let’s go check out the next one.”

  The inverted hull of a fishing boat sat next-door. It had a port hole and a gaping tear in the facade that served as the doorway. The interior was dark and stuffy. It was more modest. No sunroom. It had a chair that didn’t look too stable, and a couple of tarps piled to serve as sleeping quarters. Stella knelt to inspect them. They were relatively clean. The vinyl must have been washed in the stream.

  Outside were the two lawn chairs positioned to watch passersby.

  “Do you have a preference?” she asked politely.

  Colin shrugged. “No. In a little while I’m going to pass out, and I’m not going to care what I pass out on top of.”

  That declaration flushed Stella’s neck. She swept her hair up off it to allow some air to cool it down.

  “I guess Jill and I will take the storage container,” she decided. “It has more room for your Mom when she gets better. And it kind of reminds me of a fort I built when I was a kid.”

  “How so? Did a hurricane drop a cargo container in your backyard?” Colin smirked.

  He was trying to keep things light, and she appreciated it. She needed it. One slip on the tightrope and she’d drop into insanity.

  “No, my dad had a few big planks of plywood leftover from a shed project. He let me use them. It was kind of a lean-to thing. I sat in it and read.”

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “What did you read?”

  “Oh.” The question startled her. “My mom’s magazines. I loved magazines. All the glossy pictures. She had a subscription to TIME.”

  “Is that the one that started the journalist bug?”

  His curiosity seemed genuine. It warmed her.

  “Absolutely,” she gushed. “Can you even imagine if I had my camera down here?”

  Colin moved up to the doorway, raising his arm and planting his hand on the jagged frame. He peered out at the mystical underground village and after a lengthy pause, said, “Your photos would be in TIME, no doubt.”

  When he turned back there was the hint of a smile toying with his lips.

  “Thank you,” Stella whispered.

  Colin frowned. “For what?”

  “For being nice to me. I–I really could use it right now.”

  “Was I ever not nice to you?” He looked wounded.

  Stella suddenly felt awkward and wished she hadn’t mentioned anything. She had no choice but to answer him, though. All six-plus feet of him filled the doorway, the flicker of torchlight dancing across his arms.

  “You never really noticed me,” she stated, “so, no, I can’t say you were ever not nice to me.”

  In an attempt to ease the tension, she mustered up a feeble grin.

  It was hard to gauge Colin’s expression in the dark. His silence didn’t help. Trying her best not to fidget, she was relieved when he took a step back and an opening presented itself.

  “Never mind,” she rushed. “This place is messing with my head. Let’s get going.”

  Stella slipped past him, her elbow scraping his chest as he gave way.

  Outside she drew in a lungful of rank air, and swiped her palms across her face as if she could swipe away the burning in her cheeks.

  “Stella,” he called quietly from behind her. “I noticed you.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Stella’s breath hitched. She was not about to turn around to see if he was mocking her. Instead, she squared her shoulders and kept moving forward. After a brief pause, the crunch of footsteps followed.

  The cylindrical body of the infirmary was only steps ahead. The glow from inside beckoned. She aimed for it and ducked inside, grateful to find Jill sitting cross-legged on the metal floor.

  Jill looked up and managed a brief smile.

  “What did you find?” she asked, her gaze slipping past Stella as Colin climbed through the doorway.

  Sarah, the nurse, discreetly shuffled sideways to get out of his way and almost tripped on a first aid bag. It was made of canvas and it was stained and frayed, like pretty much everything else around here. She stepped out of the plane to give them some privacy.

  “Well, we found our accommodations for the night,” Stella offered feebly once Sarah was out of hearing range.

  Don Wexler rose from his crouched position next to his wife. He read Colin’s inquisitive gaze and answered, “No change. But her breathing seems a little more regulated, doesn’t it Jilly?”

  Jill nodded, but Stella caught the appeasement in that brief gesture.

  Colin briefly examined his mother, shadows of concern and fatigue ringing his eyes. His father watched him expectantly, and Stella felt a jab of sympathy for Col. He had become the man in charge of an impossible situation.

  “What did you find?” Don prompted.

  “Honestly, Dad, I don’t know what to believe down here.”

  He began to recite the tale that Etienne and Frederic shared. Don listened, shock and disbelief vaulting his graying eyebrows after some of the more absurd aspects.

  “We were paralleling Hudson Canyon last night,” he observed. “I lost track of it when the storm hit.”

  “Yeah, I remember seeing it on the depth finder,” Colin agreed.

  “But I’ve been sailing out here since I was a kid. There was never any talk of caves–”

  “There have been exploratory missions, but nobody ever searched the entire canyon floor,” Colin agreed.

  His father looked piqued by the observation. “Find that out in finance class, did you?”

  Whoa. That sounded like a jab, Stella thought.

  Or, like all of them, the predicament and his wife’s health was getting to Don. Regardless, the dig seemed to agitate Col, but only for a second. Running his hand through his hair, he swiped away any sign of annoyance and continued.

  “Well, perhaps you’ll get more answers at dinner.”

  “Dinner?” Jill interrupted. “What kind of dinner?”

  Stella decided to leave out the tube worms for now.

  “It’s not so much what we’re going to eat,” Colin regarded his sister. “It’s the company. We’re supposedly going to meet the rest of the inhabitants down here.”

  “The rest–” her lips parted in shock. “How many?”

  “How many, indeed?” Don began pacing, stooping to peer out the window.

  “We don’t know yet.”

  Colin’s father was still hunched over, staring out the window. A perspiration mark stained the green Tommy Bahama shirt at the base of his spine. His salt and pepper hair was drying out slightly shaggy. Normally it was combed back neatly and
secured under his baseball hat. He pivoted his head left and right and snapped backwards as if seeing some of the spectacles outside for the first time.

  “Where and when is this dinner?”

  Colin’s eyes met Stella’s for a second. Her breath hitched again and she coughed into her fist to relax.

  “Tell him, Stel,” Colin smiled at her.

  Gulp.

  “The bistro,” she whispered.

  “The what?” Jill squinted.

  “The cafe,” Stella added with more oomph in her voice. “That’s actually what they referred to it as.”

  “Is it next-door to the movie theater?” Don scoffed.

  Stella stopped herself from saying, yeah, we’ve been through this whole comedic routine.

  The humor was fading.

  “It’s just a little bit down the path here. A grouping of tables near the stream.”

  The stream they call, Styx.

  “Water,” Jill murmured the word as if it were sacred. “I’m so thirsty.”

  “The stream must be saltwater,” Don tempered her enthusiasm.

  “Actually, they claim the stream is clear, distilled by the heat of the very vents that are providing oxygen down here.”

  “I still find that impossible to believe,” Don snickered, “but, we are alive, so I’ll try to have an open mind.”

  Stella’s eyes sliced towards Colin just in time catch his, that would be a first look. There was definitely something brewing between the Wexler men, but Colin was doing his best to moderate it.

  Out of habit, Stella glanced at her watch. For a second she caught a reflection of her mouth in the black screen. “Should we head out there? I mean, it’s probably about time.”

  “If there’s something to drink, let’s go.” Jill encouraged.

  On cue, Sarah, Etienne’s wife, climbed back through the doorway. Stella jolted at the sight of her. The woman had a knack for stealth. Her bulky shoes made no sound on the granular surface. Perhaps it was because she was so light.

  “Etienne mentioned you would be having dinner with everyone.”

  Sarah’s voice was soft enough that everyone inside had to lean in to catch it.