Out of the Depths

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

THE PHONE RANG, AND JACI reached for it, abandoning her search for the perfect shade of puce from among the endless set of color swatches. “Decor and More.”

“Hi, Jaci. It’s Erlene Moore.”

“Hey, Erlene. It’s good to hear from you.” Flashes of the precious nursery Julia had designed for the Moores filled Jaci’s memory. Surely, the woman wasn’t calling to complain about anything. “How’s that baby boy?”

“He’s getting to be a big boy now, which is why I called.” There was a short pause. “I’m pregnant again.”

“Wow, it’s been longer than I realized. Congratulations.”

“Thanks. This one’s a girl, so we want to have the nursery redone, and we also want Cody to have a room of his own.”

Handling the child’s room would be no problem, but nurseries were Julia’s forté. “Are you in a hurry for this? Julia’s away for a few weeks.”

“I’m seven months already.”

Exactly the same as I would have been… The acknowledgment brought a pang of something that felt as if regret and guilt and fear made a fist and punched her in the stomach.

Erlene’s tone became apologetic. “I shouldn’t have waited so long to call, but Cody and my job take up so much time. Then finding out I was pregnant again was like being caught up in a whirlwind, and before I knew it, there were only two months to go and nothing’s been done.” Her voice raised an octave. “No, no, Cody. Give Mommy her keys.” Erlene paused, then continued in her normal tone. “I looked for my keys for three days last week before I found them inside an unzipped teddy bear.”

Jaci pushed through the discomfort as she flipped the pages of her appointment book. There was no use dwelling on what had happened, and the thought of designing a nursery by herself had a certain appeal. She might never get to design one for herself, but doing someone else’s might give her vicarious satisfaction. She found an opening for the following week. “I’m open a week from today at two-thirty.”

“Cody goes down for… Not right now, Cody. Mommy will be off the phone in just a minute. Yeah, I’m off on Tuesdays, and Cody takes a nap at two, so he should be asleep. That would be good.”

“Would you like me to come to your house?”

The response was an emphatic “No.”

“No?”

“No, Cody. Leave the lamp cord alone. We mustn’t pull on cords. That would be great, Jaci. And I’m desperate for suggestions on more ways to baby-proof things.”

“I’m sure if you search Google—”

“I’ve got to go, Jaci. See you next Tuesday. Cody, come back with that.” The last sounded as if Erlene had broken into a jog.

Jaci moved the color swatches off her lap, and typed “baby-proofing the house” into a search engine.

“Oh, dear Lord!” She gasped as her eyes fell on the results—all 881,000 of them—and the sense of ineptitude she’d repressed for the two days since she and Bart had talked came out again swinging.

“Who in their right mind ever convinces themselves they can do this?”

The blow came hard and fast, an uppercut to her heart.

Certainly not me.

* * *

KYNDAL LISTENED TO CHANCE’S deep breathing, taking comfort in the sound. There hadn’t been many times they’d actually awakened with each other after making love. Occasionally, he’d managed to convince his parents he was at a friend’s house when he’d really spent the night with her. With her mom gone so much, getting time alone wasn’t a problem. But spending an entire night together had been nearly impossible.

After Hank’s death, Chance’s parents kept him on a short leash. No other seniors had a midnight curfew, but Chance did. And, on the rare occasions when her mom was home, they had to make use of the car’s backseat or secluded beaches on Kentucky Lake.

Waking up naked next to him now would’ve been a dream fulfilled, but the coolness of the cave had forced them to put their clothes back on.

She tried to ignore the thirst and the excruciating pain in her head that kept her awake most of the night, the gnawing emptiness in her stomach…and the hollowness in her heart when she thought about leaving this place and going back to a life without Chance.

Nothing’s changed. Don’t even try to convince yourself this will last.

The truth, as taught by her mother, was that men came and went, moved in, moved out, but none ever stuck around for more than a couple of years. It was okay to love them, but the unwritten law said never to need them or depend on them.

Her mother had tried to warn her when she first started going out with Chance. “Don’t get wrapped up in that boy, baby,” Mom would say. “He lives in a different world than we do, and bad things happen when worlds collide.”

Then she would take off on one of her road trips, and to combat the loneliness, Kyndal would wrap herself even tighter around him, hoping desperately to prove her mother wrong.

Clinging.

She edged farther away, mentally and physically distancing herself from the man who lay beside her.

Chance stirred, reached out to her and scooted closer. “You awake?”

“Yeah.”

“How come? Your ankle hurting?”

She felt him push up on his elbow, his hand resting warm on her stomach. “A little. Not too bad.”

His hand slid under her shirt and stroked her bare skin. “I’m rested, and I think I promised you an all-nighter.” His breathing was soft on her face just before his lips closed down on hers.

Much as her body tried to convince her otherwise, her mind screamed that no good could come from making love to him again. It would be like jumping into an emotional abyss.

Logic backed her away from the edge. “I have a headache.”

He groaned then gave a low chuckle in her ear. “It’s the old I’ve-got-a-headache, is it?”

She nudged him with her elbow, eliciting another groan. “I really do have a headache. In fact, I’m sort of hurting all over.”

Chance sat up quickly. She heard the pump of the flashlight, and then the light blinded her. He pressed his thumb along the bottom ridge of her eye socket, and, when the light shifted, she read fear in his expression.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He swore under his breath. “You’re dehydrating, Kyn.”

“How do you know?”

“I had a malpractice suit against a nursing home where a patient died of dehydration. I had to learn all about it.” He located his socks and boots with a sweep of the light and rushed to put them on.

She tried to keep her tone light. “I’m not that old.”

“Symptoms are the same. Headache usually followed by muscle cramps. I’ve got to find you some water.”

Another day, or even another hour, alone with her thoughts would cause her to pull her hair out one at a time. “I’m going with you.” She jerked her abandoned sock free from a boot and donned it quickly.

“Kyn, I can search faster without you.” He brushed his knuckles down her cheek gently, but his firm tone said she would be a hindrance.

“I know I’m a pain in the ass, but I can’t sit alone in this crypt for one more nanosecond.” Through the shadows, she watched his mouth tighten, but she pressed on. “We’ll move to the next cavern. I’ll stay there, and you can explore that area. Then we’ll go on to the next, and the next if we have to. Leave me when you have to, but not here.” His eyes drew in with concern. She could tell he still wasn’t convinced. “If you found water somewhere far, you’d have to come back here to bring it to me. This way, I’ll be closer. I won’t be any trouble, I promise. I’ll busy myself taking some more shots.”

He rubbed his hand roughly through his hair and down his thickly stubbled jaw. Finally, he threw up his hands in surrender. “Okay. Let’s take our stuff with us. If we find the way out, we won’t have to come back for it.”

She smoothed out one of the discarded granola bar wrappers. “If anybody comes looking for us from this direction,” she tore the wrapper into several thin strips, “we’ll leave these to mark our way.”

Chance left her briefly to drop a marker in the spider room by the opening they’d chosen to follow. He was only gone for a couple of minutes, but they seemed interminable. She didn’t realize she’d held her breath the whole time until she let it out when she glimpsed the tiny beam headed back her way.

The tunnel wasn’t large enough for them to move abreast. Chance crawled in front, his body blocking most of the light.

Kyndal concentrated on his grunts and his breathing. They tethered her to reality in this surreal landscape, kept her from crying as her movements jarred pain loose from every sinew.

Is this the way a baby feels moving through the birth canal? She found comfort in that thought. They were moving through a birth canal and would emerge back into the world at the other end. Tunnels always had light at the end of them, didn’t they?

This one didn’t. When they finally broke into an open space, Chance scrambled to his feet and helped her to hers.

She clung to him, fatigued and unable to hold her balance as blackness whirled around her. A wave of nausea swept through her, and she convulsed in a dry heave.

“Oh, baby, don’t. Please don’t.”

The desperation in his voice rallied her strength. She contained the lurches to her stomach and swallowed until the spasms passed. “I’m okay now.” She leaned her head against his chest. “I just got up too fast. I’m really tired.”

“Rest a minute.” Chance supported her with one arm as he flashed the beam around the cavern. Although not as large as the one they’d fallen into, this one had more stalagmites and stalactites than they had seen anywhere else in the cave. Like teeth lining a giant mouth.

The odd, bumpy growths were evidence of some type of water activity years ago, which Kyndal found reassuring. The openings littering the wall gave her comfort, each one promising a way out. She took a relaxed breath and pushed off from Chance, planting the toe of her injured foot firmly, showing him she’d regained her balance.

“I’m going to get some shots in here while you explore those doorways.” She hopped over to the nearest knee-high “molar” and settled beside it, busying herself by assembling her camera.

“You’re sure you’re okay?” Chance’s voice was once again smooth and composed.

She nodded.

“I won’t be far.”

Time passed quickly as she lost herself in shot after shot. The limestone growth served as a firm support, steadying her and acting as a prosthetic leg under her knee. The pain in her head and back eased. Perhaps standing up helped the blood flow. But she tired quickly and had to sit much of the time. Sometimes she became aware of Chance’s shuffle in the background, and sometimes she became aware of the silence.

Darkness made for a strange working environment. She often gave in to it and shot intuitively with her eyes closed. The abstract angles and shadow play gave a dimension of hollowness and emptiness she’d never considered capturing before. It spoke volumes—like the white space of a poem. The results pleased her.

With her eyes closed, she didn’t see the beam of light or hear Chance approach. Luckily the camera strap was around her neck when his hand touched her shoulder and she jerked around. He caught her hand as she steadied herself. His quick intake of breath focused her attention on the beam of light shining on her hand.

When he’d grasped it, a ridge of skin had been forced up on the top, starting below her middle finger and reaching to her wrist. It stayed put, hadn’t smoothed back down like it should, looking like a worm had made its habitat under her skin.

“Another sign of dehydration.” Chance’s voice trembled, and he cleared his throat. “The skin loses its elasticity. I think we need to go back to the first room.”

“The room with the spiders? There’s no water there.” She shook her head, which shot a dizzying pain through her skull. She ran an arm around his waist for support.

“The spiders chose that wall for a reason.”

His voice was as hard as the arm clamped around her, and his intention finally cut through the fog in her brain. “Oh, God, no. Chance, you can’t! There are too many of them.” She took his face in her hands, forced him to look down at her. “If they’re poisonous, you could die.”

“And you could die if I don’t find water.”

And so it was out. The dreaded d-word. They’d both studiously avoided it until this second, but now it was out drawing a collective shudder through them both.

He gripped her tighter. “I’m not going to let that happen.”

How could she convince him she wasn’t near death, make him forget his plan of attacking the spider wall? He wouldn’t believe her words. She had to show him. Impulsively, she pulled his mouth to hers, willing him to find a promise of hope. It took a few seconds, but she finally felt him start to respond with a hunger of his own. She kissed him deeper.

I love you. The words flooded her brain and dropped onto her tongue where she bit them back. Saying that now would sound like a final confession, make him believe she’d lost hope, make him do something stupid—like fight ten thousand spiders for her.

She summoned the will to push every thought from her mind except survival and found it in his embrace. “No going back, Counselor. Remember?” She spoke the words precisely. “We’ve moved on.”

Now, if she could just convince her heart to follow that advice.

* * *

CHANCE SNIFFED THE AIR. Two of the last three tunnels had a slight upward slope, but this one had a different scent than the others. Cleaner. Fresher. The aroma wasn’t strong, but it reminded him of a spring rain.

That fragrance could only come from water—or his imagination playing tricks on him.

He loathed the idea of moving Kyndal again. They’d been at this for so long now, he’d lost track of time. His watch read two thirty-eight, but he didn’t know if that was Tuesday afternoon, Wednesday morning, Wednesday afternoon. He’d lost track.

He hadn’t meant to fall asleep after the last long trek through what seemed like miles of passages, but Kyndal seemed so exhausted. He’d just wanted to hold her through her nap. Then he’d dozed off.

A dull pain had awakened him as it pierced his back and followed his ribs around to the front with almost rhythmic precision. Kidney most likely. Whatever, it was taking a toll on him. He didn’t want to admit his body was giving out, but he wasn’t able to cover great distances bearing so much of Kyndal’s weight as she hopped beside him.

Every time he left her now, he came back to find her asleep. That scared the hell out of him. What if she didn’t wake up next time? Her speech was becoming a bit incoherent. Even now, she was mumbling something about Hamlet and life being a waking shadow.

A surge of adrenaline sent energy into his lethargic limbs. He had to get her through that tunnel even if he dragged her.

“Kyn.” He raised her chin gently and shined the light directly into her eyes, which were clouded with confusion. Her pupils were enormous. “That tunnel slopes upward. It may lead to the surface.” Her mouth moved in inaudible speech. “We need to take it, baby, but it’s too narrow for me to carry you. Can you crawl a little farther?” He was thankful the darkness hid his lie. It might be twice as long as the last one, and that one had been agonizing.

The cloud lifted from Kyndal’s eyes and she seemed lucid again. She gave a nod.

“Hold on to my feet so your hands don’t get so cut up. I’ll move real slow, okay?”

She blinked.

With both packs on his back, seeing behind would be impossible. And the narrow tunnel would make turning around difficult. He needed to feel her to know she hadn’t collapsed.

“Okay, Kyn?” He jiggled her face until he felt a perceptible nod.

“’Kay, Couns’lr.”

Her words were soft and slurred, but, in them, he found strength. He positioned her and started the slow ascent.

His original plan was to speak encouragement through the entire length of the tunnel, but that proved too demanding. He needed every ounce of strength he had left. So they inched their way in silence, their progress measured by the increasing pain in his back and sides and chest.

He prayed she would be able to keep her hands on his legs. Twice she slipped, but managed to regain her hold.

He became oblivious to everything except the feel of her hands around his ankles and the pinpoint of light in front of him. They were all that mattered in this world.

The tunnel widened and sloped upward abruptly. He held the flashlight in his teeth so he could use both hands to scramble onto a smooth plateau. He reached back and hauled Kyndal up the last few feet. His heart sank as he panned the area with the light.

A dead end.

One opening that didn’t look promising—just a wide fissure really.

No water.

He’d chosen the wrong way, and Kyndal would never make it back down the passage and up through another one. She was too weak.

He’d failed.

“I’m sorry, Dad.” His mouth formed the words of its own accord.

A faint ringing started in his ears as darkness closed in around him. “Can’t pass out. Don’t pass out.” He ground the words out through clenched teeth as he threw the beam around aimlessly.

Dampness. Moisture. Close. He could smell it. Taste it.

Willing his head to stop spinning, he focused on the opposite wall. There was something odd about it. He put down the flashlight and crawled the short distance over to it, touching it with his finger. Not hard limestone. Not rock. Soft. Applying pressure, his finger sank into it. He spread his fingers and grasped a handful. Dirt.

A cave-in.

He lay back and shut his eyes, letting the sickening realization wash through him. At one time, this probably had been a way out, but now it was blocked. By how much dirt? How far to the surface? He could try digging up through it, but if it was unstable that could bring the roof down.

“Chance.”

He opened his eyes.

Kyndal had taken the flashlight. He could barely make out her legs protruding from the wide fissure.