Zero Game - Brad Meltzer [94]
The light is gone. But sound is an entirely different story.
“Viv!” I call out, shouting through the tunnels. “Viv, can you hear me?!”
My voice echoes through the chamber, eventually dying in the distance. The question goes unanswered.
“Viv! I need help! Are you there?”
Again, my question fades and dies. For all I know, she took the elevator back to the top.
“Is anyone here?!” I scream as loud as I can.
The only sound I hear is my own labored breathing and the grinding of rocks as I shift my weight. I grew up in a rural town of less than five hundred people, yet I’ve never heard the world as silent as it is right now, eight thousand feet below the earth. If I plan on getting out of here, I’m gonna have to do it myself.
Instinctively I start to stand up, but quickly change my mind and sit back down again. I’m pretty sure the archway that’ll lead me back to the earlier part of the tunnel is in front of me, but until I’m positive, I’d better not wander around in the dark. The only thing helping me grab my bearings is the bitter smell of feces coming from the nearby wagon. As I follow the smell and trace it to the left, I’m crawling on all fours and patting the rocky ground like I’m looking for a lost contact lens. The smell is so awful, it’s starting to make my eyes water, but right now that pile of reeky shit is the only beacon I’ve got.
Crawling forward, I hold one hand out, petting the air and searching for the wagon. If I can find it, I’ll at least know which way is out. Or at least, that’s the plan. My fingertips quickly collide with the jagged edges of a sharp, wet rock. But as I open my hand to get a better feel, I trace it upward, and it just keeps going. It’s not a rock. It’s the whole wall.
Tapping the floor slightly, I search for the wagon, but it’s not there. It was on my right as I was coming in, so to get out, I keep heading left, feeling my way. Over my shoulder, there’s a metallic twang as my foot collides with something behind me. Still on all fours, I reach back and pat my way along the ground until I feel the thin spokes of the red wagon’s wheels. It doesn’t make sense.
I freeze right there, putting both hands flat against the dirt floor. The wagon’s supposed to be on my left. I reach out and feel it again. It’s on my right. I’m completely turned around. Worst of all, I’m headed the wrong way, deeper into the tunnel and away from the exit. I close my eyes, already dizzy from the darkness. The smell seems like it’s coming from everywhere. Ten steps and I’m already lost.
Spinning around and searching for security, I frantically braille my way across the ground and crawl forward. With one extended stretch, I reach out in front of me and feel the rest of the red wagon. The scabby edges of chipped metal. The rounded curves of the wheels. Even though I can’t actually see it, my mind mentally puts the puzzle pieces together, showing me a perfect view. To my own surprise, I erupt with an anxious laugh. Copping one feel after another, my fingers soak up every sharp corner and dented curve, caressing the base of the wagon and rubbing the frayed edges of the plastic shower curtain between my thumb and pointer finger. It’s an amazing sensation to take it all in by touch—and I can’t help but wonder if this is how Barry feels.
Anxious to get out, I palm my way across the wagon until I find the jagged wall. As my left hand stays with the wall, my right hand sweeps back and forth like a human metal detector, brushing the ground and making sure I don’t hit another divot. Still crawling, I make a sharp right through the archway at the mouth of the cave. If I wanted, I could stick with the train tracks that run down the center, but right now, the wall somehow feels more stable and secure.
Twenty-five