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“We’ve never looked the other way.” Sally knew he meant the way of the monster in the lake. She had never returned that way, had never gone back, had never tried the stairs again. She had chosen to stay in the caves rather than risk what might be in that lake. But now she wasn’t so sure.

“Then that’s the way we’ll start. Get ready.”

They didn’t speak again until they each had bundles tied to their backs and had entered the tunnel forbidden to Clint all his life. Then he said, “Why now, all of a sudden? You were happy here until now. Don’t you want to be down here with me anymore?”

“Of course I want to be with you, honey. There are just better things for you than an old cave. I want to see your face. I want to see how much you look like your daddy.”

“You always told me Daddy would rescue us. He hasn’t, though, has he? And now you want to go find him. Why? We live here. This is our home. We’re happy here. Don’t you want to be with me anymore?”

Sally stopped and reached out for him, but he avoided her touch. She was astonished at his bitterness.

“Clint . . .”

“Don’t! You don’t want me anymore. You just want to go chasing a dream. There is no ‘up there.’ There is no ‘daddy.’ There’s nothing but you and me and that’s not good enough for you. You’re a liar and I don’t want YOU any more, either!” He ran off into the darkness.

“Clint!” She screamed after him. There was no response. She kept screaming as if the echoes were her only friends.

5

Filled with a stifling terror that had built upon itself over the years, Sally Ann felt her way along the side of the tunnel toward the opening she had first come through so long ago. Still sobbing and aching for her runaway son, she had but one thing in mind—to show him the truth. How could he not believe her? When she stopped to rest there was only silence around her. She heard nothing of her son but did not worry. Clint was far more capable of navigating the winding tunnels than she. She also resisted the temptation of calling Jackie. This was a situation she would have to deal with on her own.

For the first time, doubts began to fill her mind. Maybe it was all a lie. Maybe Jackie was a lie, too. Maybe this was all a dream, a nightmare; maybe there was nothing, really, except her and the darkness. No caves, no tunnels, no Clint, no Michael, no God. Maybe she was the product of the imagination of some madman who was dreaming. Maybe she was the central character of a novel, and the imagery of the writer was strong enough to flash her into existence. How else could she explain Jackie? Was he just the product of her need? How could he be real?

“There is only one way to find out. I will prove to Clint and I will prove to myself that there is something else—something better for us than the darkness, than these damned tunnels. I will get out of here and come back for Clint.” She spoke loudly, boldly, as much to calm herself as in the hope that Clint could hear her.

She continued through the tunnel, reliving the journey from the tunnel entrance to the main cavern. She walked with her eyes closed, hoping her feet would remember the way and not let her mind guide her down the wrong tunnel, take the wrong turn at a fork, sabotage her freedom. When she was tired she slept, and when she was hungry she ate until all she had brought with her was gone. Still she walked, the ache within her abdomen a constant companion, the pain of a mother falsely accused of being dishonest with her child.

The old tennis shoes were finally rotting away, and she discarded the soles and the few strings that still held them together and continued barefoot. She soaked her cut and bleeding feet at the first stream she crossed. There she found more food, and rested until she was able to continue.

Limping, stumbling, and near the end of her endurance, she sensed a wall in front of her, and made her way to it. It was made of bricks! The first manmade substance she had known since leaving the stairs. Clint would have to believe her now! She felt her way along the wall and finally, hands pulling on her hair, sank to her knees. It was a dead end. The wall was solid.

She rested awhile, then scavenged the tunnel floor on all fours until she found a pointed rock. Chipping away at the old mortar proved to be a tremendous task, but she kept at it consistently, resting when she was too tired to go on, and taking trips back to the stream for fresh food and water. There was no sound except her own raspy breathing, no word from Clint. She knew that she was quite lost in the underground maze, that her bearings were so far off she might never again find either the Home Cavern or the stairs. This wall was her only hope. There must be something behind it.

She worked at the cement, chipping an inch at a time, until she had loosened one whole brick. With bleeding fingers she worked the brick loose from its slot and pulled it out. Half fearing what she would find, she reached her hand in the hole and felt . . . more bricks. A double wall. Her soul wilted. Would she never get used to disappointment? She summoned courage and patience and kept going. Eventually she had worked an opening that was five bricks wide and seven bricks high. She began scraping at the mortar of the inner wall.

The second wall of bricks was not as solid, and by putting her foot in the opening and bracing her back, she could make the whole structure give a bit as she pushed.

She worked one brick until it became loose. She pushed it with her hand, then her foot, until it gave way and fell in. Holding her breath, she listened. Nothing. Then a splash, way, way below, and the nauseating stench of mold, must, and rotting stuff wafted through the hole.

It was an old well, and where there was a well, there was access from above. Overcoming her sickness, she doubled her efforts to push out the inner wall. With one brick gone, the wall crumbled fairly easily. Soon she had an opening big enough to crawl through.

The effort was exhausting. She sat back and rested while her mind raced ahead. Here is a way out for all of us! She thought of Jackie, and called him. Instantly, he was there. He looked in the hole, and pulled his head back in revulsion. “This place is diseased. You can’t crawl up there. The well has been closed up for years. I’m sure the top has been sealed.”

“I can do it. I’ve got to get Clint out of here.”

“You can’t do it. Look at you. You’re skin and bones and half dead. Do you know how you’d get up there, with no rope? And once you got to the top, then what? How are you going to open the lid? Forget it, Sally Ann.”

“I can do it and I will do it and I don’t need you telling me I can’t. Now you can help me or you can go away.”

“I won’t help you kill yourself. How fast have you been losing your teeth?” Her hand went to her mouth, to the sore gums and the holes she tried not to think about. “Come on, we can find our way back to the home cavern.”

“And do what? Rot? Have you ever thought what will happen to Clint after I get old and die? No, Jackie, this is our only way out.”

“What’s the difference, Sally Ann? You can die here, or you can die in that hole.”

She took his arm and looked into his eyes. He looked so sad. “Jackie, we can get out of here. All of us . . .”

“Not me, Sally Ann. I can’t go. I don’t know why, but when you don’t need me anymore, I think I’m going away.”

“Well, I certainly don’t need you now!” She was instantly sorry she had said that, and had time only to see the hurt flash through Jackie’s eyes before he faded away. “Jackie? Come back. I do need you. . . . Jackie!” But he was gone. She curled up in the corner by her pile of bricks and cried herself to sleep.