Elisha's Bones - Don Hoesel [38]
I’m not as young as I once was and what I told Esperanza is true: I’m no athlete. So it is with some trepidation that I slide into the hole, my feet searching for a rung, and try to keep the sway of the ladder from upending me. After the swinging of the ladder becomes less pronounced, I lean back, smile at the others, and lower myself into the darkness.
I’m seven rungs down when a train hits me.
My chest seizes, and my breath comes in ragged gasps, as if I’m sucking oxygen through a clogged filter. The darkness surrounding me is now a physical thing—an insidious creature running cold hands over my naked skin. It is only two meters to the bottom but I cling to the ladder, even as the coarse rope burns my hands. I can’t move.
I hear something above me that I recognize as a voice but I can’t make sense of the words. There’s a pounding in my ears that sounds like roaring surf beating against rocks. That louder sound, blocking out all else, is fear speaking to me, and I’ve never before heard its full voice.
It seems like hours that I hang there, my mind caught in a dark place, before I can will a rational thought to find any purchase. I know I need to regulate my breathing so I can organize my thoughts. I try breathing through my mouth, exhaling slowly. I repeat the process several times until a portion of the oppressive darkness lifts and I can make out the vague shape of the smooth rock surface before me.
I’m beginning to feel intense pain in my hands and it forces me to move down the ladder. In just a few seconds I reach solid ground and I fumble to pull out and turn on the flashlight. The beam that spills out over the corridor walls is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, and I release a small sob of gratitude even as I wonder what just happened to me.
Esperanza is soon by my side, up close and pulling me away from the rope ladder that has started to dance as one of the others begins to descend.
“What was that?” she asks me in a harsh whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“You hung there for almost a minute, and you wouldn’t answer me.” She grabs my arm and leans closer, but with the flashlight trained down the tunnel she can’t see my face. “Are you all right?”
Did she say I hung there for only a minute? It seemed much longer—as if half my life had passed by.
“I’m fine,” I answer, hoping my voice sounds steady. “It’s just been a long time since I’ve climbed down a rope ladder. My knee’s acting up.”
She probably would have said more, but now the others are behind us and it’s getting crowded in here.
“Let’s go,” I say. I start down the passage, the light revealing nothing but bare stone. I’m embarrassed by whatever it was that happened to me back there. At least it wasn’t as obvious as it could have been. Claustrophobia comes to mind, because whatever it was only took hold of me once I’d entered the hole. Yet I’ve never experienced something like that, and I’ve spent a good portion of my adult life in cramped places beneath the earth. Of course, it’s been five years. I start to feel the cold fingers of fear touching my elbow and I push those thoughts away.
We’ve reached the end of the passage, and a narrow set of stairs follows the wall line to the left before turning and angling back toward the pyramid’s center. I turn and review the crew, who are huddled close together, drawn by the light. I realize I’m not up to my pre-professorship form because I’m the only one with a light. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have outfitted everyone with lights, rope, and water. I console myself that I could find my way out of here in complete darkness. There is, after all, only one path you can take.
“Everyone all right back there?” I ask.
Heads nod all around, except Antonio who crosses himself again.
“Está bien, Antonio. Es como bajar a tu sótano para cambiar un fusible.” It’s all right, Antonio. Just like