Guardians (Caretaker Chronicles Book 2) (21 page)

Ethan’s mood had improved dramatically. He walked
over to where she and the cousins were crowded together on one of the
reflective blankets. “They’re keeping you from getting hypothermia. Be nice to
them.”

Maggie grunted as he sat down on the blanket with
them. “Where have you been?” she asked.

“Exploring. And I’ve found something great.”

“Another crystal obstacle course?” Maggie
growled. Ethan looked around for Jade. He wanted them all to hear about it. She
lay still on the floor where they’d been sleeping. Someone had covered her with
the reflective blanket. Ethan went to her and laid a hand on her shoulder to
wake her.

Her shoulder was unyielding. Ethan felt sick as
he realized that Jade wouldn’t be waking up. “She’s gone,” he said, his voice
breaking. He heard a small cry from Brynn.

He slumped back as Ndaiye rushed to the girl,
checking her. “Her head injury was worse than we thought.”

Without warning, Ethan again felt the energy
pulse growing in him. The senselessness of it, the waste, fueled his anger and
he felt the heat rising. But the tumbled rocks of the tunnel flashed through
his mind and he forced himself to look at the rest of the team. They were still
alive. They had a chance to get out of here. He couldn’t ruin that by reacting
this way. He pressed his palms hard onto the cold stone of the floor and drew
in a long, trembling breath.

In the dim glow of the shoulder lights, Ethan
looked at the four people huddled around the chamber. It had been over two
weeks since they’d seen the sun. Weeks in this tangle of chambers and passages.
Weeks—and less—since they’d lost their friends. They were moving toward a
dangerous discouragement. He had to give them some hope, had to get them to
that warm place to rest and gain strength. But how much to tell them? In the
back of his mind, that long dark passage hovered like a stasis nightmare. He
knew he was going to have to get them through it.

Ndaiye covered Jade’s face with the blanket.

“What do we do?” Brynn asked, her voice broken
and pleading.

And then Ndaiye began to sing. No calming lullaby
or bracing anthem this time, but a sorrowful, wailing song that rang through
the cavern with an aching sincerity. It was in his old Earth language, and it
seemed to carry Jade’s spirit home.

When the last note of the song ended, Ndaiye and
Traore harmonized mournfully as they gathered the packs and helped Maggie and
Brynn out of the cavern. Ethan ducked out behind them.

Outside, as the last notes of the cousins’ song
faded, Ethan saw Maggie. Her shoulders were slumped. She was, as they all were,
dangerously weary. She was holding Jade’s pack and she slowly removed
everything useful—and the photoflat—and divided it among them.

When she turned her eyes to him, Ethan saw no
anger. Her grief was, this time, deep sorrow.

For once, Maggie’s voice was subdued. “What do we
do now?”

Ethan gestured to the group and they followed his
flashlight into the third tunnel, leaving the girl’s body and the darkness
behind them.

The group moved more slowly than usual, each lost
in their own thoughts. It took them two hours to reach the antechamber.

“Good news,” he said as brightly as he could. “I
found where we need to go. Do you feel it? There’s a breeze.”

He waited.

“I feel it!” Ndaiye’s voice brightened with a
ripple of excitement. “I feel it!”

“Me too,” Brynn said, her eyes kindling with a
spark of hope.

“It means there’s an opening somewhere. It means
air is getting into the cave. I’m hoping we can follow the air and find a way
out.”

There were murmurs of approval. Ethan opened his
mouth to tell them about Python Pass, then his gaze played across their haggard
faces and he stopped. They would know soon enough.

He crossed the chamber and they followed. With
some apprehension, Ethan showed them the gap they’d be going through. Brynn
looked startled, and Ndaiye shook his head, but it was Traore who feared it
most. He backed away. “That doesn’t look big enough for us.” He said, a tremor
in his always-steady voice.

Ethan adopted a calm tone. “It’s going to be
tight, but I’ve been through, and we can make it.” He put his hands on Traore’s
shoulders and looked into the shadows around his eyes. “It’s worth it. On the
other side is a thermal chamber. It’s like a sauna in there. Traore, it’s so
warm that you think you’re back in your own house in Coriol.” He could see
Traore fighting to overcome the fear. “You can get through. It’s our way home.”
Ethan said that with more conviction than he felt. In truth, he had no idea if
the thermal chamber led anywhere. “I’ll be with you. Just follow me.”

Traore’s gaze shifted between Ethan and the
opening. Once. Twice. Ethan saw the moment that Traore’s fear of the passage
gave way to his desire to get out. Glancing at the others, Ethan saw that the
fear had spread among them. If they didn’t go now, he wouldn’t get them in
there.

“Just follow me,” Ethan repeated. He dropped down
and slid his pack off his shoulders. “I’m going to be honest with you. It gets
tight. There won’t be any extra room. You’re going to have to push your packs
in front of you down the passage. Don’t panic. Just focus on going the next arm’s
length, then the next. Just keep moving, and hang on until the passage opens
up.” He looked at them. “Traore, you follow me. Ndaiye, you come next. Maggie,
it’s going to be tough for you with that leg—”

Maggie dismissed him. “I’ll be fine.”

“Brynn, you’ll have the easiest time getting
through, because you’re the smallest. You come through after Maggie. Help her
if you can.” He faltered, wanting to give them something that would quell their
fear in the narrowest part of the passage, something that they could hold onto
in the dark. “It will end. It will open up. Keep going. Just trust me.”

Ethan’s own heart was hammering again. He didn’t
want to go back in there. He would have done anything to keep from it, but he
wanted to go home, and this seemed the most likely way. He pushed his pack in
front of him into the opening and crawled inside.

The first few meters were fine. The pack was a
new challenge, but he found it gave him something to focus on so he didn’t have
to think so much about the way the tunnel was closing around him. He heard the
sound of Traore’s breathing behind him, amplified in the small space. The other
man was already breathing erratically. Ethan heard the scraping of Traore’s
hands and the rasp of his pack against the stone. “You’re doing fine. Keep
coming.”

As the passage narrowed, Ethan willed himself to
calm down. It was much worse coming this way. Coming out of the sauna room, the
passage began narrow and opened with every meter you crawled, but this
direction was the opposite. Just when he thought it could get no smaller, the
passage constricted further.

Ethan was well into the tightest part when he
heard Traore begin to cry out behind him. The deep voice was muffled by the
pack and the stone, but Ethan could tell he was panicking.

He crawled faster, calling out, “We’re almost
there, Traore. We’ll make it. Keep crawling!” Arms outstretched in front of
him, Ethan shoved the pack savagely forward, reached ahead, and pulled his body
as far as he could. “Keep coming, Traore!”

Again: push, reach, pull. Push, reach, pull. Ethan’s
own fear of the stone was swallowed up in the drive to get Traore out of there.
He felt Traore’s pack hit his feet and knew the man was right on his heels.

Traore was wailing, “Get me out! Get me out!”

Finally, Ethan’s pack slid away and his arms broke
free of the tunnel. He paused, tucking his shoulders quickly and working
himself through the last constricting band of rock. He reached back into the
tunnel to feel for Traore’s pack, but grasped only air.

Now that his own body was out of the way, Traore’s
voice came to him forcefully. The words had ceased, and the terrified man was
now simply screaming. Ethan called to him.

“Traore! Traore! Listen! You’re almost there! I’m
out. You’ve got to keep coming.”

But the sounds of crawling had stopped and Traore’s
cries got no closer. He was either stuck or paralyzed with fear. Suddenly
scared, Ethan hoped it was the latter.

He could hear Ndaiye shouting at his cousin. “Go,
man! I want out of here, too! Go, Traore!”

Ethan dove back into the tunnel, crawling until
he felt the pack. He grasped it, then attempted to move backwards. It was much
more challenging. He found his feet lacked the grip he’d had with his hands.
With Traore’s panicked screams landing like blows on his ears, Ethan had to
fight to stay calm himself. He wriggled backwards, pulling the pack with him,
and made it out again. Tossing the pack aside, he pushed into the tunnel again,
crawling as quickly as he could toward the terrified man.

He found Traore thrashing in the tiny space, his
hands clawing the sides of the tunnel. He had turned onto his back and his
screams filled the small space with deafening volume.

Ethan grabbed for him and shouted, “Ndaiye! Push
if you can!”

Locking his hands around Traore’s flailing arms,
Ethan pulled, trying to work the two of them backwards. But Traore thrashed and
clawed at him, wailing. “No! No! I can’t! I have to go back! He twisted and
contorted, trying to turn in the tunnel. Ethan let go and moved back, trying to
shout over the man’s cries. He was paralyzed by the knowledge that Traore could
wedge his own body in the opening, dooming himself and the three people behind
him, leaving Ethan to face the rest of the dark cavern alone. Ethan felt his
own panic rising.

And then, clear and bright to his mind came a
memory. Polara upon seeing her first yan, the pig-like animals that some people
on Minea had domesticated and kept for pets. Polara had been terrified,
striking out at the little animal as it approached her. Ethan had pulled her
into his arms, stroked her hair, and sang to her an Earth song from his
childhood.

Now, in the chaos of the tunnel, Ethan moved
forward. Dodging the clawing hands, he reached into the darkness. Traore’s head
was less than a meter away. Ethan felt the thick hair, the smooth forehead. He
put all the gentleness and serenity he could into his touch. Traore seemed to
take some comfort. He stilled slightly, though his shoulders still twisted
convulsively and his fingers still scraped the stone above him in panic.

Instinctively, Ethan began to hum. Suddenly, the
words of the old lullaby he’d heard them sing in the Teardrop Chamber came back
to him and he fought for breath to sing, “Yangu mtoto, mtoto, ndoto.” His voice
was small, lost in the shouting from the others in the tunnel and Traore’s
fear. He sang a little louder, “itakuwa utulivu mtoto wangu, yangu mtoto,
mtoto, ndoto,” and felt Traore still as he sang. Both men lay still, Traore
listening and Ethan singing softly.

When the song was over, Ethan slid his hand away
from Traore’s hair and found his arm. “Come with me, Traore. We’re gonna get
out of here.” Traore convulsed, but Ethan felt him trying to move. “You need to
turn back over, onto your stomach, if you can.” He pulled as Traore slowly
righted himself and moved, a painful centimeter at a time, down the tunnel.
Ethan heard himself wheezing as he wriggled backwards. The tunnel seemed so
much longer as he tried to pull Traore along with him.

When he felt his feet kick free of the tunnel he
blurted, “I’m out, Traore! We’re almost there! Keep coming.”

Ethan worked himself out of Python Pass still
holding onto Traore’s arms. He reveled in the space and in the leverage he was
able to get by bracing against the wall outside the tunnel. He felt Traore slip
forward half a meter at a time.

As the light from Ethan’s single shoulder light
fell on Traore’s tear-streaked face, Ethan let go of his arms, but placed a
reassuring hand on his head. “You’re going to have to wiggle through the end
here,” he said firmly. “Just tuck your shoulders in and work your way out. You’re
almost here.”

Traore’s desperate scramble through the last
obstacle of the tunnel revealed his still unsteady state of mind. Ethan lifted
him to his feet and Traore rushed several feet away and collapsed near the
curtain formation. Seeing him safe, Ethan turned his attention back to the
others, still bound in the dark of the tunnel.

They were coming fast. Ndaiye’s pack hit the
cavern floor just seconds after Traore was out, and he struggled out after it.

There was a terrible, quiet pause after Ndaiye
had settled in the cavern. Ethan leaned into the tunnel, listening. He heard Maggie’s
labored breathing somewhere ahead. “Are you all right?” he called.

“I’m fine,” she snapped. “I’m entitled to a rest
once in a while, aren’t I?”

Despite the adrenaline still pumping through his
veins, Ethan smiled. She was fine. “All right. Do you hear Brynn? Is she okay?”

“She keeps trying to push her pack under my
toenails. She must be fine. Now shut up. I can barely breathe enough to move. I’m
not gonna lay in here wastin’ my oxygen talkin’ to you.”

“Fair enough.” Ethan stood anxiously by the mouth
of the tunnel until Maggie, and then Brynn, worn and quiet, emerged from it.
Without asking, he led them to the warmest part of the room, where the party
spread out and lay on the heated stone, each resting off the last of their
fear.