“It’s much easier going back up. You have buoyancy on your side.”
“What about the bends?”
“The what? Oh, you mean decompression sickness? Don’t worry, we’re not deep enough for that.”
My brain ticked off the symptoms, just in case. Joint pain. Severe headache. Disorientation. Back pain. Chest pain. Lots of pain.
Nitrogen bubbles in your tissue and blood.
Stroke. Death.
Okay. Relax.
“Where are we?” I asked.
I looked around and answered my own question: a cave.
We were in an underground cave.
We were in a cave underneath the ocean.
Okay.
Okay.
“Breathe,” Sam said, putting his hands on my knees. I didn’t even have the strength to push him away indignantly.
“What is this place?”
“You’ll see. Can you walk?”
He hopped to his feet and bent to help me up, but I didn’t take his outstretched hand. I got to my feet shakily, feeling every muscle in my body protest. I put a hand against the cave wall to steady myself, breathing slowly and deeply, seeing spots of light dance across my vision.
Sam put his hand on my elbow. “I’m fine,” I said.
“It’s not far.”
“What’s not far?” But of course I already knew.
We started walking, Sam in front with the flashlight and me so close behind him that I kept stepping on his heels.
The cave was small, the ceiling just a few inches above our heads. In some places we had to squeeze through a tunnel that narrowed without warning. But he was right; it wasn’t far. In under a minute, we emerged into a slightly larger cavern. It was the size of a small living room, and there was a deep indentation running through the middle. Like a scale replica of the Grand Canyon. There had been a river here once, running through this room and disappearing into countless rooms beyond.
“No shit,” I said, stepping forward.
“Yes shit,” he whispered.
“This is where...”
“Yes.”
“How did you... ?”
“I found it,” he whispered. “When I was your age.Missi-tuk.”
“A river with unsettled water,” I said, remembering. “This is the river?”
“This was the river,” he corrected. “It’s been dry for a very long time.”
