I begin by throwing the torch up onto the ledge. The first few times, it just rolls off. On the fourth attempt, it stays. It hardly matters anyway. I’m estimating we have less than thirty minutes of light remaining.
Albita braces herself against the wall, wedging her small feet in to form a triangle with the wall and the ground. I place a foot on her hip, another on the wall, and then land as lightly as I can on her shoulder. It gives me just enough height to reach the edge of the ridge with my hands. I pull myself up and lie on the narrow ledge. It’s too narrow to fully lie on, so I’m sideways. I jam myself in as safely as I can, and reach down with my right hand. She stretches up. We both gasp with the effort of it. Our fingers keep missing each other by the narrowest margin.
Eventually, she gives up.
“It’s no good. I’ll stay. You go ahead and bring help.”
For a long moment, our eyes lock.
I say quietly, “No.”
I swing back down, suspend myself from the ledge. Through gritted teeth I say, “Climb up along me.”
Albita hesitates for a second. Then, without a word, she grabs hold of my ankles, and I feel my fingers take her weight. She’s not heavy, but on top of carrying my own weight, I think my fingers are going to pop out of their knuckles. The tendons in my wrist feel as though they’re stretched to snapping point. Albita moves quickly, clambering up my back and shoulders. It’s over in a matter of seconds. Then I have to find the strength to pull my own weight up all over again.
A few seconds later we sit side by side on the ledge. I look at Albita, watching her brush strands of long, straight hair out of her eyes.
“I don’t want to leave you behind again,” I tell her.
Albita leans across and kisses my cheek.
“Of course,” she whispers.
We get to our feet and edge along the rock. Further along, we reach another opening.
I hear water. It’s unmistakable. The sound of loud, steady dripping echoes from a cave not far from our position. We rush ahead, reaching the cave within a minute.
The ceiling is so low in places that we have to stoop. The torch illuminates enough for us to see that the cave is filled mostly by an underground lake. The surface is opaque and reflects ribbons of flame-colored light. It mirrors the overhanging limestone rock. When I lower the torch to just above the surface of the water, I can see that it’s clear, all the way to the rocky floor of the lake.
There is only one way into the cave by foot. Any other exit must be through water.
“This water comes from somewhere,” I say. “We’ll wade through it.”
I pass Albita the torch and lower myself into the water. This deep, the temperature is quite a bit lower than the puddles we’ve walked through. My teeth begin to chatter almost right away. The cold seeps into my bones. Very rapidly, the lake becomes deep. It becomes obvious that wading isn’t going to be an option for long.
I clutch the torch as we swim, holding it above our heads. The water tastes salty, not like the water in the tunnel streams. We reach the other end of the lake, where there’s a rock wall.
I turn to Albita, both of us treading water.
“I’ll have to swim for it. Wait here a minute. I’ll come back for you.”
Albita can’t keep the tremor out of her voice when she replies. “No, don’t. Stay. It’s too dangerous. It’s dark. You won’t be able to see.”
“If you hold the torch here, I might.”
“If you go too far you won’t be able to get back.”
“I’ll find a way out. And come back for you.”
She hesitates. “I don’t want you to go.”
“I have to, Albita. I’m the stronger swimmer. You know it’s true.”
Without warning, she begins to cry. I can hardly bear to watch. I hate myself for letting Albita join us on this search. I promise myself then and there that I’ll never put her in danger again, never.
I place the torch in her hand and hold it close to the water. “Hold it like this, okay?”
Albita nods, still crying.
“Wait as long as you can. Then get out of the water and dry off.”
“Don’t go.”
This last time, she whispers. It almost breaks my heart.
“Here I go.”
I take a few deep breaths, preparing my lungs. Then I plunge into the water, diving low under the rock. I can just about make out the outline of the tunnel. It’s about as wide as three people. It veers to the left, where there’s a tiny gap.
I squeeze through the gap. Ahead I can see two openings: left and right. The right-hand tunnel narrows quickly, becoming very dark. The left-hand tunnel seems wider, and lighter. I keep swimming hard. By the time I reach the left-hand tunnel, I need to exhale. I release some air as tiny bubbles. I know I’ll only last a few more seconds. If I’m going to turn back, it would have to be now.