Chapter 19
Lamplight Stories
Lillian
CAREFULLY CARVED steps give way to misaligned slippery dents in the rock as we reach the bottom of the cave. A faint roar can be heard as the floor levels out. My ears pick up the familiar rush of water almost instantly. I can’t help but smile to myself as the cacophony grows louder by the step.
“You were right,” Margaret says through an exhausted sigh. “Thank God. I need to freshen up.”
I can’t say I feel any different than her. I’m out of clothing and still caked in mud from the rain. A quick moment to refuel and clean up will do wonders for my spirit. “We should stop and rest,” I say in support of Margaret’s claim. “The water will be cool and clear.”
Amidst the agreements from the rest, a fire ignites from beside me.
Ben has lit a torch he found above. I’d watched him wrench it from the wall, knowing we would need the light eventually.
No one had dared to mention it, but two of the electric torches had grown much dimmer in the time it took us to sure-foot our way down the 200 stairs.
We all watch our footing on the increasingly slippery floor as the heavenly sound of water continues to drag us toward it.
My mouth waters at the prospect of feeling clean again, at feeling cool water on my lips.
Even the coolness of this low spot in the cave has done wonders to help rejuvenate my body.
To the left of our narrow path, a shallow pool lays in wait.
It does nothing to explain the rushing of water that drowns out every other sound.
I throw a hand out in front of Margaret to urge caution.
“Don’t let the still nature of the water fool you.
” I take up Ben’s torch and extend it out over the pool.
James points his electric torch toward the far side of the cavern.
A large overhang juts out over the water.
I have no doubt that a roaring river exists just beyond it.
“One wrong step and you could end up being swept beneath that rocky shelf. You’d never be seen again. ”
Ben huffs as he takes the torch from me again. “Keep to the edge then.” He moves away before I can inquire about his well-being.
As I carefully maneuver to the far side of the round pool, I start to notice artifacts.
Clothing has long since withered away, but I can still make out rusted metal tools and even a few wooden baskets.
When I first touch the water, I get a flash of life here: a kind-hearted laugh, the splashing of kids along the edge, and women washing clothing closer to the shelf.
I’m interrupted by a canteen tapping my shoulder before I can completely slip away.
I wrap my fingers around the thick water skin and find that my visitor is Oliver. His smile is inviting, albeit forced, but he sits beside me for company anyway.
My mind wanders back to the quick flash of life here. This had been a popular spot, I realize. So many things were left behind as if they would be used again for their tomorrow. People of all ages had been in my pinprick of a vision.
The exit must not be far if they traversed here frequently with children.
My demeanor eases slightly. They had brought children here.
I take comfort in it. I have not felt any negative energy since entering the cave, besides the vision I had asked for.
Perhaps this place was so sacred to them that even the evil they experienced did not stick around long.
This used to be a place of community and peace.
“Would you explain to me how this all works?” Oliver asks from beside me. “Underground rivers and lakes. I can’t say I ever learned about this in school.”
The mundane inquiry is enough to make me laugh.
Perhaps I would have taught this in schools had I been able to pursue a normal life.
“Well,” I begin, drawing in enough air for what will be a lengthy explanation.
Holding out my hands, I do my best to speak with them as well as my words.
“We entered this cave near the top of the mountain we hiked up.” I laugh again.
“I don’t believe it’s been named by anyone in the West yet.
” The locals would have their name for it, but as for knowledge overseas, it was always the Pico da Neblina and nothing more.
“We’re deep within the mountain, I suspect the deepest point that is possible to reach.
” Pointing beyond the rocky shelf, I do my best to explain the nature of underground rivers.
“This will eventually end up in the Black River.”
Oliver nods in understanding. “But if this is the deepest point, where will the exit spit us out at?”
“I expect it sends us right to the front gate of the Lost Colony.” Motioning around, I share my theory about what this place was used for hundreds of years ago.
“Beyond the colony, the Pico da Neblina. You could see the mountain peaking from the trees days ago. It’s the tallest mountain peak that we know of in Brazil.
” The mountain that started all this madness, a landmark at the northernmost tip of the country.
A symbol of protection to the original settlers.
A beacon to everyone now that something renowned lays beneath.
The silence settles between us for a moment before Oliver asks a question I suppose he’s been wanting to ask since the beginning. “Why do you think they settled together?”
The answer to the question is one I have long asked myself but have never voiced out loud.
Strangely emotional, I look at my reflection in the water below and, much like the water beyond, let the answer flow from me.
“They truly believed they could make a better world for themselves.” Everything I’ve seen in my dreams comes for me in the form of emotions, intense feelings twisted in the contrary sentiments of hope and devastation.
“I think the men who came from Portugal saw it as a beautiful chance to start anew in a breathtaking place that offered adventure and a peace that they had likely never seen before. And those that were native to this area perhaps fell into awe of them. I’m sure their technology was interesting and helpful to them at times.
” I shrug myself free of the warring thoughts, suddenly feeling foolish.
“Perhaps we will have an answer before we are done here.” And perhaps we will not.
With a swish through the rippling reflection before me, I push myself to stand but can’t tear my eyes from the water.
I feel entirely at war with myself, with my beliefs and my historical studies and all the whys.
Why would I be shown the man with the dagger and the woman with the necklace?
Why had they courted in the first place?
How did so many women hold places of power within the colony until they simply didn’t anymore?
What ultimately led to the man’s decision to wield the dagger for evil?
“It’s a beautiful dream.” I hear Oliver whisper from the lip of the pool. “The dream of living as one.”
“It is,” I say just loud enough for him to hear over the water. It’s a beautiful dream, but there will always be someone there to threaten and eventually take it from those existing to keep it pure.
A cracking sound pulls me from the water at last.
Oliver has pulled his last full radio from his bag and has torn the back off of it. I jolt at the sight of it. “What are you doing?”
“I want to do my part in getting you where you need to go.”
Through a twisted brow I study his hand, furthering the destruction of his prized possession. “I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“The torches are growing dimmer by the minute. This radio hasn’t been used much at all.” He pries off another chamber cover, revealing the power source. “If it’s all the same to you, I’d rather not get caught in the dark.”
By the dim light of my torch, he begins transitioning equipment from the radio. I fear it’s another object that will be left here to rot with the rest. Perhaps sometime in the future another crew will come through and ponder its existence, will ponder our existence.
Lost in his work, Oliver bows his head low and forgets me completely. I bend once more to top off my canteen and then check on the others. Diederick, Ademir, and James discuss strategy in the dirt nearest the trail that I hope leads us up and out.
Bruno and Ben sit near the group, in silence. Ben manages to catch my eye, but I quickly avert my attention. There are so many things we should talk about, but with all the ears, nothing I could say would be from the heart out of fear of someone overhearing.
Options for companionship dwindling, I find myself sitting beside Margaret. She has set herself well off to the side. She’s been showing clear signs of a mental shutdown. I noticed her going into complete survival mode earlier in the day, but the way she is acting now is concerning.
There have been no more flirtatious glances or snarky comments. Besides her demand for a stop at the water earlier, she hasn’t said a word. She has sat herself at the pool’s edge with knees drawn to her chest and vacant eyes looking out over the water.
“Are you alright, Margaret?” I ask, inching myself closer to her. She just shrugs her shoulders. “Perhaps, if we join the others, we could get some food into you?” She shakes her head before turning to me.
Her lips part as if she might say something, but an aggravated breath takes the place of words. She pushes herself away from the water and my side before I can try to calm her any further. Whatever happened to the bubbly woman who I was so delighted in having as company?
As I stand to rejoin the group, I start to wonder if others feel the same way about me. My heart skips a beat thinking Ben might see me as a shell of my former self, and I begin to ease off on my harsh feelings about Margaret.
We will all see this through in whatever ways we are capable, and when we return from the mountain, I hope we can all be friendly and hopeful with each other once again.
Ben
Safe. Safe enough to offer Lillian a moment’s rest.
It’s all I can manage to think about as the lamplight flickers at the center of our circle. Her head rests on my shoulder while some of the others share stories.
Thank God for Oliver’s quick thinking. Out of the radios that survived this long, he managed to give our flashlights a little more light.
We were able to get an older kerosene lantern that Bruno had in his pack to light as well.
It lights a circle around us, just giving us enough reprieve from the swallowing darkness.
When we first gathered, the mood was dour, not a speck of hope to be felt.
It was the last thing I wanted for Lillian, so for the first time in my long life I deemed it necessary to tell a funny story from my youth.
The memories of the ranch have always pained me, but there were good times even if I usually refuse to acknowledge them.
The chuckles and general amusement by others were nothing in comparison to the breathy laugh I managed to pull from Lillian.
From that moment, the mood lightened and the others finally opened up.
Mr. Bennett, a working man, shared about his bachelor life back at home.
James shared about his goals in life, about finishing his mission and moving on.
He painted a picture of moving out to the country and taking up farming.
Nobody could miss the way his eyes lingered on Margaret when he spoke about settling down.
Margaret.
Margaret says nothing.
Even as Oliver’s nasally laughs roll into a story about a girl he’s smitten with back home, I don’t let my attention sway from the silent girl at the edge of the group. Margaret hasn’t been the same since we entered the cave. It’s not just survival for her anymore; it’s something else entirely.
Only when Oliver procures a grainy photograph from his pocket and passes it around do I finally stop my studying.
Looking at the woman in the photo makes me realize I don’t have one of Lillian.
I clear my throat and anxiously pass it along to Lillian, who smiles and comments on how lovely the girl in the photograph is.
She passes it to Ademir next to her and then returns her head to my shoulder. Wrapping her arm around mine, she entwines our fingers. I bring our clasped hands to my lips and peck her hand. “Sleep,” I whisper calmly. “You should get some rest.”
She stiffens slightly. “And what about you?” She asks in an equal whisper.
Exhaustion is a beast, and I’m fighting it hard. I’ll find a few minutes of sleep, but I will never find rest again until she is safely on the river on her way back to Manaus. I’ll only sleep peacefully when she is away from here, but she can’t know that, not when she has so much in front of her.
Turning, I rest my lips on the crown of her head. “Rest,” I tell her.