She sighs almost contentedly, like she’s giving in to sleep.
Hardly louder than a whisper, Ixchel says, “I think someone else is here too.”
29
I lie absolutely still, listening. Drops fall steadily into the puddle from water trickling through the cave walls. Ixchel’s jeans scrub against rock as she tries to get comfortable. But no echoes, no footsteps, no voices. As far as I can tell, we’re all alone down here.
“Think this water’s safe to drink?” I ask. “‘Cause ours is all gone. If you really listen, you can hear it gurgling. I think it’s flowing, you know? That means it could be all right.”
She barely manages a sleepy shrug. I cup my fingers and scoop up a handful.
“Seems okay …”
“Good,” mutters Ixchel. “Better not drink too much.”
But once I’ve got the taste for it, I don’t want to stop. I slurp handful after handful. It tastes fine: a little warm, very slightly salty. I lean across to Ixchel and take the flashlight from her fingers. She’s fast asleep.
The beam of light is much weaker than it was. There may not be enough to get us back to the first cave, the one with the chimney. I try not to think about that possibility, or about how deep underground we are. I try not to think about the phrase “buried alive.” And I especially try not to think about that skeleton.
I switch off the flashlight. Above us, the ceiling of the cave glows faintly, with luminescent pink and white. Ixchel’s drifted into sleep.
I don’t want to be awake in the dark. Not alone, not here.
The phosphorescent light dies out slowly. Finally, I give in and let my eyelids fall. Just before I drop off to sleep, I hear the distant buzz of quivering wings. Behind my eyes, colors flash inside my head.
I know almost from the beginning that I’m dreaming. In fact, from the instant I look down and see I’m wearing those linen pants and a matching white shirt. Or maybe it’s when I glance to my right and see the girl next to me. We’re holding hands. It doesn’t feel wrong. Just the opposite—it feels perfect.
Okay, so this is a dream.
I’ve become another person—Chan. I’m with this girl, Albita. Somehow I just know this stuff.
“We’re going to get out of here,” I tell her.
She nods. “I know.”
She trusts me. And I trust her. We’ve been lost in these caves for hours. Somewhere down the line we became separated from the others. In the dream, I know all of this. In the dream, this is what I think about as we slosh through tunnels filled with inches of water. It shimmers with a fiery orange, reflecting the weak flames of my fading torch. I think about all the tunnels we’ve already been down, making a mental map. In that map, there’s only one place left to try. If that doesn’t lead us out of here, then I know we’re lost.
And if we’re lost, it’s just a matter of time.
My best friend has been lost here in the Depths for many days. Somehow six days passed before anyone noticed that he was missing. That’s the way it is with Kan’ek sometimes. He can be strange.
Kan’ek is the firstborn of the Bakab Muluc. He has no brothers. That’s why our search is so urgent. He’s an heir, but I’m only a spare. My older brother will turn sixteen in two months. He’ll begin his training with the Bakab Ix. If I go missing in these tunnels, will anyone come to rescue me?
We find the cave again, the one with the incredible ceiling of translucent, twisting helictites. This is it now; we’re not far. We go back through the cave, then take the next left turn. We follow the tunnels deeper underground, walking through water that gets deeper by the minute.
Until we come to a solid wall. I look up, see that there’s a ledge. The ledge is narrow, but leads to another tunnel. It’s high, though. Not possible to climb up without help.
“You can climb up there,” Albita says, “if you get up on my shoulders.”
I stare at her, amused. “And how will you climb up?”
“You’ll pull me.”
“What if I can’t reach? You think I’m going to climb on your shoulders, and then risk leaving you behind?”
“And you think I’m going to climb on your shoulders and then risk leaving you behind?” she replies with a wide grin. “Listen, you have to do it my way. You’re taller than me. More chance you’ll be able to pull me up than the other way around.”
“Always telling me what to do … is this how it’s going to be when we’re married?”
Albita’s grin widens. “It works so well for us! Anyway, you shouldn’t worry so much about me. I’m not as delicate as you think.”