Beneath Page 9

  It sounded like an accusation.

  Yeah, Jill was cranky.

  “Not much else to do,” she shrugged.

  Piqued, Jill moved back to the window. “Well, I’m not staying down here. There has to be a way out.”

  That was the major difference between them. Jill generally demanded resolutions. Stella usually worked to achieve them. It was probably a 50/50 ratio on who was more successful. Jill’s looks got her a lot of things in life that Stella had to work a little harder for, but Stella rather enjoyed the lack of attention. It left her time to do what she wanted to. Jill’s time was always consumed by everyone else’s agenda.

  Still, they blended. Somehow the formula worked. Even now Jill was tossing one of those silly grins at Stella, the tension short-lived. For as cranky as Jill could get–it never lasted.

  “Hey,” she tensed.

  Jill hunched over, and then realizing that she could stick her head through the window, hooked her hands around the wood frame and leaned forward.

  “Do you see that?” she whispered.

  Stella stepped up behind her. It was Jill’s whisper more than anything that caught her attention. Discretion wasn’t one of Jill’s strong suits.

  “What?”

  “Over there, by the basketball net.”

  Stella squinted into the shadows and felt a chill creep up her spine. A male figure stood with his shoulder hitched against the slanted pole.

  “I thought I saw him there yesterday when we walked in.”

  The silhouette was tall and lanky, but the face was lost in shadow.

  “I’m going to go introduce myself,” Jill declared, hefting off the window frame.

  “Hey, wait. You know nothing about him. I don’t trust the people down here yet.”

  Jill pursed her pink lips. “You never trust anyone. You have to open yourself up, Stel, if you’re going to go places in life.”

  Where was she going to go? The next cave?

  “I’ll go get Colin.”

  “Oh God,” Jill rolled her eyes. “I don’t need my brother. I’m just going to say hi. I’m sure you’ll be right behind me.”

  It was true. Stella would tail after her to enact damage control if it was necessary. She was the ultimate wing girl.

  Jill ran her fingers through her hair and twirled to gaze in the cracked mirror. She wrinkled her nose at the image and adjusted the collar of her blouse. Without a word she stalked out into the dank underworld. Stella trailed behind, shaking her head.

  A rectangular patch of ground had been leveled to serve as a court. There was a torch at the opposite end of the basket, making the idea of playing the game a challenge. Under the heavy shadows of the basket a man stood watching them. Every now and then his eyes would flash as the flames reached them, reminiscent of the glimpse she had seen in the cave. Was this who had been watching her?

  “Hi!” Jill called out boldly. “We didn’t get to meet really last night. I’m Jill. This is my friend, Stella.” She flashed a smile and took an exaggerated look around. “We’re the new people.”

  For a moment the shadow continued to study them until it finally budged from its roost and stepped into the glow of the torch.

  Stella sucked in her breath at the sight of him. Choppy brown hair capped a dark expression. It was hard to distinguish an eye color in the limited light, but she guessed them to be brown. A long, narrow nose, full lips, and high cheekbones gave him a haunting semblance. For some reason, the character of Heathcliff in Wuthering Heights came to mind. A man who had left youth behind, but had not fully reached the command of maturity.

  “Daniel,” he stated in a gruff voice.

  Something about his cold, level look made Stella uneasy. That flat stare was trained on Jill, though. He studied her from wideset eyes as she forced on her perky smile.

  “Daniel,” Jill repeated. “It’s nice to meet someone our age–I mean, you look around our age, but–”

  Her awkward confusion didn’t draw a smile from the sullen figure. When he said nothing, Jill verbally stumbled forward.

  “How long have you been down here?”

  Daniel was still dressed in his pullover shirt with red and white horizontal strips, giving him a tainted, Where Is Waldo look. His jeans were slashed into shorts at the knees, and they hung low on his hips. The outfit might have looked juvenile, but the somber expression on the man’s face removed anything amusing from the image.

  “A while,” he answered evasively.

  Stella wasn’t in the mood for games.

  “Five minutes or five years?” she sought clarification.

  Jill threw her a just chill look, but she ignored it.

  Daniel stepped forward and she struggled to hold her ground. She was not about to be intimidated by some creature who had been living under the Atlantic Ocean for untold years.

  “I have no clue how long,” he declared. “I was a kid. But if you have to know. It was August of 1997.” He shrugged. “I think.”

  The uncertainty revealed a momentary chink in the hostile armor.

  “How old were you at the time?” she pursued.

  “What the hell does it matter to you?”

  “Stel, we just met Daniel,” Jill pleaded. She turned towards the man and rolled her eyes. “Forgive my friend, she’s studying journalism and conversations with her tend to come across more as interrogations.”

  Daniel scowled. “Then I’ll be sure not to have many conversations with her.”

  And just like that, Stella was excluded as Jill prattled on about her scary journey down to the cave, a journey that was mostly spent unconscious, although that was not relayed in this enhanced version.

  Stella lingered to see if Daniel offered up his tale, but he kept mum on the subject, warily eyeing her the whole time. Jill cleared her throat and crossed her slim arms. It was a signal for Stella to leave them alone. Concerned about leaving her friend with this glum stranger, Stella saw Margie emerge from her maritime bungalow, giving them a hearty wave and smile. She seemed unfazed by the young man’s presence or interaction, so perhaps he was innocent.

  When body signals had not succeeded, Jill finally uttered, “Didn’t you have something you wanted to do?”

  Some might take offense by the pointed dismissal, but Stella knew Jill well enough. This was not personal. If one of them could obtain more information from this Daniel, then the other would have to back off.

  “I’m going to go check on your mom,” Stella murmured.

  A flash of pain darkened Jill’s eyes, but she pasted on a smile for her company. She nodded and just said, “I’ll join you in a while.”

  Stella turned her back, but heard muted conversation behind her followed by one of Jill’s classic giggles.

  Ducking her head into the infirmary hatch she was surprised to find only Sarah inside. She was seated on a wooden crate next to an unresponsive Anne Wexler.

  Sarah waved Stella closer with a congenial look on her gaunt face.

  “Come. Donald and Colin just left for breakfast.”

  “How–how is she?”

  Sarah glanced down at the prone figure. There was a tightening around Sarah’s lips that revealed more than her words. “It’s hard to tell. We don’t know how long she went without oxygen. There could be brain damage–”

  Her lips clamped shut as if she had revealed too much.

  “You can tell me,” Stella assured. “If it’s bad, I won’t share with her family.”

  The rumpled nurse gave a weak smile. She reached out and touched Anne’s limp arm. “If the brain damage was extensive enough, she could be in an unresponsive coma right now. The brain simply can’t send the signals, and soon organs will begin to fail.”

  Stella’s breath hitched.

  Sarah read her face and hastened to add, “Or, she could just be sleeping and will wake on her own accord.”

  Stella’s head dropped. She stared down at her sandals. A pair of soiled white nurse shoes stepped up alongside them, f
ollowed by a light brush of fingers on her shoulder.

  “I’ll leave you alone with her.”

  All Stella could do was nod. This ghostly nurse was the only person who seemed sincere down in this pit of despair.

  “Thank you,” she muttered, but when she looked up she was alone.

  Stella sat down on the crate Sarah had just occupied. From that spot she was even with Anne Wexler’s head on the flimsy pillow. Staring at the face in repose, Stella saw a wan version of the attractive middle-aged woman. Dark roots provided a stark contrast with the matted blonde hair. The ocean had stripped all traces of makeup. Stella didn’t think she’d ever seen Jill’s mom without makeup. There were tiny blue veins scoring the closed eyelids, some pooling beneath the eyes. Glowing pink cheeks now looked ashen.

  “Wake up, Mrs. Wexler,” she commanded softly.

  “When my mom is not around,” she continued, “you always fill in.”

  Tears filled Stella’s eyes. She reached for Anne’s hand. It was so cold. She clasped it in both of hers, hoping to infuse warmth.

  “And my mom is not here now.” Emotion clogged her throat. “I need you,” she emphasized.

  Stella stared at Anne’s face. There was no sign of acknowledgment, no flicker of an eyelid, no twitch of a muscle. Anne was somewhere far away from this cave…and Stella wished she was with her.

  CHAPTER 9

  Feeling more alone than ever, Stella slipped from the infirmary and paused outside, searching for Jill. There she was, still chatting with the lanky guy, his shoulders hunched forward as if trying to minimize his presence. Jill’s hands fluttered about like birds stuck in the mud, a sure indication she was flirting.

  Stella glanced at the upside-down boat, but saw no trace of Colin or his father. In fact, with the exception of the light pulsing from Frederic’s office up on the hillside, the cave seemed empty.

  Just beyond the central walkway she eyed the tiny stream snaking past the cafe. The River Styx, she thought with a wry snort. Stepping up to its edge she observed a shallow red bed with a ribcage pattern carved in the dirt beneath the clear water.

  A hasty glance over her shoulder confirmed that she was alone. Resolved, she began to follow the water’s meandering track.

  Torches wedged in the ground lit her way, but as she moved beyond the developed area the flares grew sparse and the shadows encroached. Ahead, the maddening spill of water grew louder. Nearly three stories above, water was spattering over the edge of a jagged ledge. It fell into a broad section of the stream, which she approached, kneeling beside the widening pool. Brine and dankness filled her nose, but it was a pervasive scent and not from this water. Cupping her hand below the surface she was surprised at how warm the water was. After a quick sniff she touched her tongue to the liquid. No salt. Frederic mentioned that this stream was their water supply. Now she almost believed him.

  Stella spread her fingers and let the water slip through it. Ahead, deeper shadows lurked beyond the slim waterfall. Shadows weren’t going to scare her, though. They were just a means to cloak answers, and answers were what she sought.

  Determined, she grabbed a warped plank wedged in the clay. It’s tip was wrapped in burning cloth. When she finally yanked it free, the jerking motion nearly brushed the flame to her face. Perspiration beaded up on her forehead.

  A quick glance behind her assured that no one was watching. Holding the torch aloft, she slipped around the wide pool, feeling a spattering of drops from the waterfall douse her cheeks. Continuing around the base of the furthest pinnacle she advanced until the village was no longer visible.

  As Styx narrowed back into a slim band, Stella hugged its edge, knowing it was her proverbial popcorn path back to civilization.

  Civilization. Hah.

  Delving deeper into darkness she felt the heat intensify. It had to compare to trudging through the Amazon on the most humid of days. Holding the torch above her she saw moisture clinging to the cave walls. The reflection of the light made the cave seem animated.

  A quick check of the torch assured that it had plenty of life remaining. If she lost the flame it would be tough to negotiate the return trip. The turf on the banks of the stream was eroded as if the level of the water was once higher. It made for an easier trek as she delved deeper into nature’s passageway. There were no offshoots visible. No nooks to conceal demons of the deep. Ahead she could hear a hissing sound similar to the steam escaping from her mom’s iron. The channel turned misty. The haze clung to her skin, pasting her shirt to her back.

  Through the mist something moved. There was no shape–no form–just the sense of motion. A slight scrape. A brush of pebbles.

  For as hot as it was, chills began to march across her damp skin. Inching forward, she swung the torch in hopes of catching the source. As she shifted the flare to the right a pair of glistening eyes peered out from the fog.

  Stella gasped and nearly dropped the torch. When she looked again the haze had congealed into a thick cloud. Nothing was staring back at her. Had she really seen eyes or was it just the reflection of the flames off of a shiny rock?

  A grating sound came from her left and she jerked in that direction. Her body trembled as she stood in a silent face-off with the glaring gaze. The eyes were much more vibrant than those of a human. Pulsing and green, like a broken glow stick. Wideset like an animal. Before she could even assess what she was seeing, she felt a rush of air and a hard limb crash into her, knocking her off balance. The torch slipped from her hand and rolled down the embankment, extinguished as soon as it hit the water. In an instant Stella was engulfed in darkness.

  Panic pumped her chest into overdrive. She tried to draw in a deep breath. It was pungent with the smell of sulfur and fear. Trembling fingers fisted against the clay, searching for a rock, or even a handful of loose pebbles–anything to use as a weapon.

  In this obscurity, the acoustics were heightened. The hiss of steam from a faraway vent. The raspy motion of her knee scraping dirt as she began a tremulous crawl in what she hoped was the direction she came from. The echo of her pounding heart off the narrow tunnel walls. And the scratch of something shifting nearby.

  Stella held her breath, hoping to temporarily pause the pulse in her ears. The sloth-like movement drew closer. With it came a new scent. Something foul. Something fetid. Roadkill. That was the first thought it evoked. Memories stuck in your nose forever, and she could clearly remember the scent of a dead deer that she and Jill had stumbled across taking a shortcut through the woods.

  Stella had lowered her eyelids to focus on more lucrative senses. It seemed pointless to open them when sight was impossible. But a shift in the air had her peeking out. Phosphorescent eyes glimmered back at her from only a foot away. Foul breath brushed over her face. It smelled like death and the soulless orbs were pulsing gateways of mortality.

  A scream rushed from her throat as she bolted blindly, stumbling into the stream and tramping through the thigh-high water. She dared not look back. In fact, she closed her eyes again, concentrating on every rigorous step through the tepid creek. At one point she stumbled, her toe hooking on a rock, sending her face forward into the water. She sputtered to the surface and became disoriented, unsure whether she was heading back towards the village or deeper into despair.

  At that moment a light filled the cave. Stella whimpered, certain that the dead-eyed creature had caught up with her. Throwing her forearm over her eyes, she tripped backwards.

  “Stella!”

  Stumbling out of the water, she cried out, “Colin! Colin is that you?”

  What if it wasn’t? What if it was a cruel acoustical hoax? What if the green-eyed creature was a ventriloquist? Right now no theory seemed too outlandish.

  “Stella!”

  The light bobbed closer. Close enough to realize it was a torch similar to hers, which now lie useless at the bottom of the stream. When she saw Colin’s concerned face in the flames she started towards him on legs as supportive as seaweed.


  He dropped the torch on a bolder and caught her before she could stumble again.

  “Stel, what happened?” His voice was husky. “Are you okay?”

  A trembling fit overcame her, as if this was the coldest place in the world, when in fact, it was only a few feet above Hell. She stared up into heavily shadowed eyes and caught brief hues of caramel-flecked warmth as the flames danced over his face. In them she saw shelter. That’s what eyes were supposed to look like. Not the radiance of death.

  Before answering she cast a quick glimpse over her shoulder. His torch illuminated the damp walls and the narrow stream, which she had just discovered was deceivingly deep. Styx was a good name for it. Other than these geological features the cave was empty.

  “I–I–”

  Hallucinations? Carbon dioxide poisoning?

  No. Not this time.

  There was no denying the stench of that breath.

  “No,” she declared breathlessly. “Let’s get out of here, Col.”

  Colin searched her face and then looked past her, deep into the channel.

  “Is there something back there?”

  There was no condemnation in the question–no leading assumption that she was losing her mind. His assurance bolstered her confidence.

  “Yes.” She swallowed and grabbed his arm, tugging him away from the unknown. “Something,” she emphasized.

  With each step of retreat she regained control of her limbs. Colin’s wide hand on her back helped a lot.

  “Something charged at me, Col. It knocked me over. I lost the torch–in the stream.”

  “Go on,” he urged quietly, although she could feel his step hesitate as he glanced behind them.

  “It was pitch black, but when I looked up, I was looking into these glowing green eyes. I swear–I swear it was what I saw back by the pool when you and I first entered the cave. The eyes weren’t normal. An animal maybe. But it was upright, and just before I lost the torch I caught a glimpse of it. Large, dark. It walked on two legs I think, and it slammed me with its arm. And–”

  Colin stopped, holding the torch up so he could read her face.