A Dark Grave (Elysium Chronicles, .5) (2 page)

If it wasn’t for Connor seeing them too, I
would wonder if I was delusional.

We cross the island several times setting
traps. I’m not going home empty-handed. I refuse to. We’ll catch
them one way or another.

We eat lunch on the far side of the island,
where the forest ends in a sudden drop off at a set of cliffs that
overlook the ocean. The fog has settled over the water far
below.

Where is all this fog coming from? Is the
ground temp and the air temp that different?

The spot between my shoulder blades itches
and I turn to look around. I’ve got the feeling we’re being watched
again.

Connor does a whole body shudder and looks
away from the forest to me.

“I didn’t really believe the stories about
this place, but I’m seriously reconsidering. Maybe we should just
get out of here.” I don’t say anything and he sighs. “My father
says he came here as a kid. He and his friends wanted to stay here
all night, and whoever was still here at dawn would prove how much
of a man he really was.”

“So? Did he win?”

He looks up and meets my eyes. “None of them
made it all night. And one didn’t come back at all. He just
disappeared.”

He gives me this look, and I lift an
eyebrow. “They
lost
him?”

“Dad said he was with them when they went to
sleep, but they heard noises, like people talking, and when they
woke up, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. They looked for him, but
when they heard this horrible scream, like someone was being torn
apart, they panicked and ran.” He looks down. “They came back the
next day with a bunch of adults, including some hunters and the
kids’ parents. They couldn’t find him or the camping gear they’d
left. I always thought he was making it up. But this place,” he
moves his hands to gesture to our sitting place, “is almost exactly
as he described it.”

I shake my head. “It
is
really freaky
here, but I came to do a job and I
will
finish it. No
ghosts—real or imagined—are going to scare me away.”

He nods, as if he expected that answer.
“Well then, we should check those traps.”

For the next several hours, we work without
talking, but I have to admit, Conn’s story has shaken me. I wish
he’d never told me, because now I keep checking over my shoulder.
The feeling of being watched is growing stronger.

We still come up empty. The traps have been
sprung, but not one holds an animal. I really, really don’t want to
go back empty-handed, but I don’t see that I have much of a choice.
We’re losing the sun and, given Conn’s story, I’m not staying here
past dark.

Besides, a rainstorm is coming—I can hear
the rumble of thunder in the distance--and we didn’t bring anything
with us to keep us dry and sheltered.

Lightning flashes, followed a few seconds
later by a huge thunder crack, which shakes the air around us,
causing me to jump. Without any warning, the heavens open,
unleashing freezing rain.

“Damn it!” I yell.

“We need to find shelter,” Conn yells over
the roar of the rain. “We’ll never make it back across now. We need
to get away from the trees!”

I nod. Trying to get across that slip of
ocean would be a death sentence, as is standing under nature’s
lightning rods, but I’ve no clue where to go. We never came across
anything that could even remotely be shelter.

Except…

“Maybe the cliffs have something,” I shout
back.

Thunder crashes again, and this time we both
jump. We run toward the cliffs.

Too late I realize how slick the ground has
become. I try stopping before the steep downward drop but slide.
Instead of falling onto my ass, I fall forward -- over the edge of
the cliff.

Before I can even yell, I’m hitting
something. Hard. Pain erupts in my right shoulder, making stars
flash behind my eyes seconds before my head follows suit and I
black out.

When I wake, the rain is still pouring, but
I’m not in it and I have no idea where I am.

I try pushing myself up, but an intense pain
in my right arm makes me collapse. I blink in and out of
consciousness.

When the world stops spinning, I blink open
my eyes again and see Conn leaning over me, his flashlight
reflecting light onto his face. He looks relieved.

Using my left hand to take his, I let him
pull me to a sitting position, but wobble a little as the room
spins and my head pounds.

“Where am I? How did I get here?”

“In a cave I found. You fell onto a ledge
and when I finally managed to slide down to you, you were
unconscious. I couldn’t drag you up by myself, so I dragged you in
here.”

I nod, then hiss when the movement makes my
head pound even more.

“I guess,” I say, when the pain ebbs, “that
this place is as good as any to wait out the storm.” At least it’s
dry. “How long was I out?”

“I have no idea. My watch broke when I slid
down the cliff and it’s still raining, so I can’t see the moon or
stars. It’s been at least a few hours. I was starting to get
worried.” He gives me a sideways look. “You sure you’re okay to
wait?”

I give him a crooked smile. “Unless you can
turn into a bird and fly me out of here, I’m pretty sure we don’t
have a choice.”

We sit quietly for a few minutes as the wind
howls and lightning flashes outside the cave. Conn leans against
the wall, his hat covering his eyes, so it’s difficult to tell if
he’s sleeping or not. I take an inventory of all my injuries. It
appears to be mostly scrapes and cuts. Some of the cuts are fairly
long and deep, covered in dried mud. I’ll need to clean them before
they get infected; they look pretty nasty already. And considering
how much my arm hurts to just move it, it’s possible I have a
broken arm.

While those are bad, it’s nothing that’s
going to kill me right this minute.

However, if it gets much colder in here,
I’ll end up freezing to death. I didn’t survive falling off a cliff
just to die from the cold. Besides, the flashlights won’t last very
long, we’ll need something for light soon.

I shove myself to my feet and look for
anything to start a fire.

Conn looks up and I say, “Fire wood,” in
response to his questioning look.

He nods again and pushes himself to his feet
without speaking.

That’s Conn’s best quality. He doesn’t have
to talk just to hear his own voice. Unlike my brother.

Which reminds me again how glad I am Tristan
didn’t come. There’s no way he’d have been able to help me. I’d
probably still be bleeding on that ledge. And he’d have probably
fallen off and broken his neck trying to help me.

We spend the next few minutes gathering
every stray thing we think will burn, tossing them, into a pile.
Just as I get to the farthest part of the cave, I find a pile of
sticks.

I stare at them for a minute. They’re set up
just like the pile we set up in the center of the cave, but it’s
made from sticks instead of scraps. That’s when I notice the silver
object lying a few inches away. When I pick it up, I see it’s a
compass. And I recognize it. But I haven’t seen it in months.

Not since its owner disappeared while
hunting on the island.

Sam. My father’s old hunting partner -- and
my mentor after my dad’s death. Like me, he felt there was a lot of
game up this way. He’d come to the island by himself just after
winter passed. We never saw him again. We sent a rescue party, but
no one found him. I always thought something must have happened --
which is why I didn’t want to come alone. And now I know.

This is definitely his. Only one person in
the village and probably what’s left of the world had a compass
like this. From the outside it looks like a normal pocket
watch—made of gold and etched in black. But when you open it,
instead of a watch face, you have a compass. The face is entirely
black, but the numbers are a greenish color that glows in the
dark.

On the backside of the lid is a picture of
Sam’s wife. She died long before I met him.

Maybe there’s something here that will point
me in his direction. If he’s still alive, we have to find him.

I start searching for more.

It doesn’t take me long. Next to the
compass, but mostly buried, is a really old set of binoculars with
a broken lens. They seem like they’ve been in the dirt longer than
just a few months, maybe even as long as Sam’s been alive,
though.

A few feet from that, I find a pocket watch.
Sam used to carry one, but I don’t think this is it. It looks like
it’s been here awhile, too. Not quite as long as the binoculars,
but definitely longer than the compass. It’s stopped working, but
when I wind it, the second hand spins easily.

Conn sidles up next to me and I show him the
instruments in my hand. His whole face scrunches up when he sees
the compass.

“Isn’t that Sam’s?”

I nod, folding my fingers over the compass.
“He’s got to be here somewhere. We have to find him. Even if all we
find is his,” I swallow, “his body, we need to find him and bring
him home. I owe him that much at least.”

Conn nods and helps me search the rest of
the cave. But we don’t find anything else. The cave is just too
dark, and our flashlights only help so much. But we do find
something that could explain why no one came back.

On the far side of the cave my flashlight
shines into some sort of opening. I gesture for Conn to join me as
I study it. It’s fairly decent sized, not large enough for a bear
to fit in, but we could easily fit through.

Our flashlights light up the space and show
us the opening is actually a tunnel. A fairly long one if the deep
darkness that lays beyond my flashlight beam and the chill coming
from it is any indication.

The walls of the tunnel look just like the
walls of the cave. Golden yellow limestone, quite obviously cut out
by water. Maybe even filled with water during the wet season,
which, thankfully, is months from now.

That has
got
to be where the missing
villagers went. Maybe even Conn’s dad’s friend. The scream could
have easily been him falling off the ledge like I did.

A shiver zippers up my spine and I turn to
Conn. “I’m positive that our missing villagers went through this
tunnel. We need to go find them.”

Conn doesn’t look convinced. “I don’t think
we should. You’re hurt. It would be better if we let people know
this is here. That way if something happens, they’ll know where to
look.”

“There’s no way we can just leave them here,
if we can help.”

“Gavin, think realistically. We have no real
proof they’ve gone down there. And even if they did, it’s been
months. Is there really any chance they’re still alive?”

“Even if they
are
dead, we need to
find them. To give their families a sense of closure if nothing
else.” As soon as I say it, I know I’m thinking more of my father
and how we don’t really know what happened to him. From Conn’s
face, I can tell he’s thinking the same thing.

Finally, he nods. “Let’s go check it
out.”

After only a few hundred feet, the tunnel
opens up enough to stand up in and walk side-by-side with Conn. We
don’t talk, except to decide which route to take when there’s a
fork in the tunnels.

We leave markings on the ground so we know
which turns we take.

At several of the junctures we find more
objects from whoever came before us. We race forward, more excited
each time we find something new.

It isn’t long before we realize that we were
so excited about finding the artifacts that we forgot to keep
marking the paths we took. But we barely have time to worry about
that – suddenly there are footprints everywhere. We can’t tell
whether we’re coming or going and now we’re thoroughly lost.

My head and shoulder pound from the fall,
and my body aches everywhere. It feels like I’m coming down with
the flu. I really just want to lie down in my bed and sleep.

We wander for hours--at least I think it’s
hours. I’ve lost all track of time. I have to wonder if we’re not
wandering in circles. It’s so damn hard to tell which way is which;
everything looks the same.

I find myself stumbling more and more with
each step I take. Several times, I have to stop and lean against
the wall as the entire world spins around me and darkness bleeds
into the sides of my vision.

Finally, Conn stops. “We should rest
awhile,” he says.

I don’t argue. I’m not sure I have the
energy, even if I wanted to, to go on.

I use the wall to slowly lower myself to the
ground. Even then, the entire room spins and I’m pretty sure I
black out for a minute or two, because when I blink Conn goes from
standing to kneeling next to me and I never saw him move.

“What’s up?” I ask.

He shines the flashlight over my arm. “I’m
checking out your wounds. You look really sick.”

I open my mouth to protest, but he gives me
a look and I sigh. “I feel like shit.”

He doesn’t say anything until he’s looked at
all my cuts and scrapes.

“You probably have a concussion.”

I groan. “Wonderful.”

“We need to get out of here.”

“Noticed.”

“So…how do we do it?”

My head pounds and I fight the urge to close
my eyes. “Do you think I would be wandering around here if I didn’t
have to be?”

As soon as I say it, I regret it. Conn’s
face hardens before he looks away.

“Um. I’m sorry,” I say. “That was uncalled
for.” Especially since it was my bright idea to start wandering
around the tunnels in the first place.

“Whatever, man.” He shrugs.

I don’t know what else to say, so I don’t
say anything. My eyes fall closed again and I force them open.

Connor is now sitting across the tunnel from
me, his legs stretched out, his arms crossed behind his head. He
appears to have been sitting there a while.