Chapter 54
54
There was no way to follow the passage of time down here.
I stared into the darkness for what felt like hours, then somehow fell asleep. I woke on the ledge. I felt clear and calm; some part of my psyche had risen from the depths, ready to deal with the situation. The tears had dried up. I knew what I had to do: go back up the tunnel.
I found a little circular hole in the wall to act as a cubby for the flashlight. I couldn’t risk it falling into the water, being carried away. I practiced holding my breath, counting the seconds, until I felt dizzy. By the time I dropped into the water, I was certain I’d be out of here soon. I braced myself to touch the bodies, which had resubmerged, but they stayed near the exit holes.
The first time I tried to swim up the tunnel, it felt like pushing into a block of cement. I managed to get a few feet in before the water pummeled me back. Determinedly, I went in again, grasping the edge of the tunnel, trying to launch myself through. But I lost my grip and the water pushed me back once more.
I tried several more times, hardly stopping for breath, until white dots sparkled in my vision. Finally, I pulled myself back onto the ledge. At least my efforts had warmed me up; I was no longer shivering.
I tried to puzzle it out. Grace must’ve died on her way in here; otherwise she’d be on this ledge, wouldn’t she? I could only hope it had been quick.
Eventually, I dropped back into the water, using my hands and feet to feel all around in case there was another tunnel I’d missed. I gently moved the bodies with my foot, holding in a whimper. They were just bodies. Grace was long gone.
Back on the ledge, I cried some more, but I was so exhausted the sobs quickly subsided. A strange thought arose: What’s better to be trapped in, endless sand or constricted rock? It sounded like a riddle. I closed my eyes and saw the desert stretching out around me. Catherine was beside me—her body, at least. She’d just died and I would soon follow.
Disturbed, I opened my eyes. I was back in the cold, wet darkness.
Closed: sun-razed desert.
I forced my eyes to stay open. There were colors, patterns in the darkness. I wondered if I could make myself pass out—by holding my breath or slamming the back of my head onto the rock. I needed oblivion. I needed not to be here. Panic was prickling at my arms and legs. I opened and closed my fists; my fingers had gone numb.
Calm down. You’re okay. You’re okay.
But that was the funny part: I wasn’t okay. I was here, and it was my fault. I’d known something was wrong, and I’d stayed anyway. I could be in my bed in New York right now, cozily reading or watching something on my phone. Instead, I was trapped. And unless I could figure out a way to escape, I was going to die.
I slept and woke up in cycles. My teeth chattered. When my feet went numb I started doing clamshells on my side to get my blood flowing. When I was thirsty I lifted palmfuls of water from where it came out. When I was hungry I tried to ignore it.
I puzzled over Catherine’s words, trying to find clues.
It must’ve spit me out. I wasn’t the right one.
I was in there, and then suddenly I was with you.
How had it spit her out? Why wasn’t she able to fucking remember?
A fiery fury filled me. I screamed and slapped the rock walls and almost fell off the ledge. The anger drained quickly.
I couldn’t climb back out. I’d searched; there were no other exits. There was literally nothing I could do. The realization filled me with both bitterness and a strange kind of relief.
I was drifting back into sleep when I heard it: a soft hiss over the burbles of the water. I lifted myself on my elbow, grabbed the flashlight and turned it on. There was nothing there.
After a minute I put the flashlight back. I needed to conserve it.
But then the sound came again.
“What is that?” I said aloud.
A voice answered in my head: You know who I am.
The voice was low and resonant. I recognized it immediately.
Oh, okay , I responded mentally. Sure. You’re the snake spirit thing from the desert.
It was clear what was happening: some part of my psyche was coming up in this form, trying to comfort me. Well, why the hell not. It wasn’t like I had any better options. Maybe this tucked-away corner of my brain remembered something I didn’t.
Can you help me? I asked it.
Help you?
How did Catherine get out?
She was born.
The vague words frustrated me. Maybe this wouldn’t help.
Suddenly, the voice was outside of me, speaking directly into my ear and making me jump. “You are a priestess. You have more power than you know.” It paused. “Can you see it?”
“See what?” I responded out loud. Now I was straight-up hallucinating.
“Look.”
Lines glowed above me on the ceiling, outlining a square.
“Is that the way out?” I whispered.
“In a sense.” Something scaly and cold slid past my arm. “You need to go through if you want to see.”
Was I asleep? I shifted, feeling the rough surface underneath me. The door disappeared.
“Not your body,” the snake hissed. “Your spirit.”
“But how…” I went still and the door came back. I closed my eyes, and it remained. It took a while to figure it out, how to get up without moving my body. It was like looking at a magic eye illustration; you had to relax into it. Finally, I was sitting up and pushing the door, my body lying below me like a discarded skin.
A laugh bubbled up deep inside. Now I’m really losing it.
But I pushed it away. Hallucinatory or not, it was better than lying there, cold and terrified. I pressed upwards, and the door swung up as if on a hinge. I peered into the empty space. Pitch-black here, too, but the air felt different, heavy and viscous. A pressure against my skin, so increasingly intense I cried out.
Then: nothing.