Page 78 of One Step Too Far

“If his journey ended here,” Bob says carefully, “we should’ve found his pack. That implies he moved on, if he was ever here at all.”

“Daisy caught a scent,” I murmur.

“We walked through that area; it’s right after this cave. I didn’t see anything.”

I sigh unhappily. “Did you happen to look down low? You know, for any underground openings?”

“I don’t do down low very well.”

Now we sigh together, knowing what we have to do next.

—

We leave Martin to play with pebbles as we exit the cave. I hesitate for a moment, not just because of the heat awaiting us, but because I can’t stand the thought of once more being so exposed.

Bob seems to share my concern, both of us drawing to a halt right before the cavern opening. Here, we have a thin cover of shadow before bursting into full sun. The view is gorgeous from this vantage point, the gray-brown expanse of the boulder field rippling like a dry riverbed right before the green explosion of the abutting woods. A blue-tinged bluff rises to the right, not nearly as impressive as the cliff face, but offering up its own patchwork of forest shadings. If I squint hard enough, I think I can almost make out water in the distance. One of the streams we crossed or maybe even the lake near our campsite.

Or it’s all just wishful thinking.

I return my gaze to the piles of rocks strewn before us. Midafternoon now. Do this, return to base camp, welcome the rescue choppers.

Only a handful of hours left.

—

We jump down from the cave entrance without speaking. Bob heads straight for the cover of the largest boulder and I follow. We don’t put our mutual fear into words, just watch each other’s back as we thread our way to the place where Daisy detected the odor of decomp.

According to Luciana, the dog kept losing the scent trail. Now that I’m walking the terrain, I get Luciana’s point. It feels to me like the rocks themselves would trap the scent in places such as this corridor, making for an easier time, not more difficult.

We hit a dead end at a particularly large boulder. After a moment’s hesitation, we both scramble up to the top of it, leapfrog our way quickly another ten to fifteen feet, then drop down again. I feel a patch of coolness against my ankle.

Sure enough, there’s a thin black void beneath one of the rocks. Too small for a human to wiggle through, but further evidence of air pockets. We continue on more slowly.

Back and forth. I start sweating heavily again, using my bandana to blot at my forehead. It’s about as dirt-stained as I am. I long for civilization, running water, hot showers. I wonder how Luciana, Daisy, and Nemeth are doing.

Moving fast, I’m sure. As cavalries go, we couldn’t have chosen better.

“It’s been more than twenty minutes,” Bob says behind me.

I nod. I’m hot, tired, and defeated. And I have that twitch back. Bob is looking hinky as well. There’s something about standing in the middle of a barren rock field that feels so vulnerable. I have images of a wild-eyed human popping up to surprise us. Maybe even now the predator is hunkered down low, watching our progression, waiting to attack.

I was never one for haunted houses, and this is starting to feel an awful lot like that.

I lead the way back up to a section of massive boulders, staying low as I scurry my way across. I don’t have to look at Bob to know he’s doing the same. Of course, a guy of his size still remains a considerable target. We reach the end, jump down into one of the dusty corridors. The rocks here aren’t tall enough to shield us completely, but it still feels better than being topside.

This section is wide enough that we could easily walk side by side, but Bob remains behind me. Covering my back? If I’m being honest, I understand Bob fibbing about his true profession. As lies go, it’s not the biggest I’ve ever heard. At heart, he seems to be a good guy with a natural protective instinct. Which explains his actions now, as he stalks behind me like my own personal guardian Sasquatch.

We’re approaching the base of the cliff, where we’ll have to scamper up a steep rock pile to make the final, open-air traverse to Martin’s cave. I come to a halt, preparing to climb, then I feel it. A kiss of cold wind against the back of my neck, causing me to shiver.

I turn around, frowning. Bob draws up short as well. There are four or five particularly large boulders that form a jumbled pile behind us. Like the rest of their craggy brethren, they’re tilted this way and that, a compact grouping at first glance, but the more I look, the more gaps appear between the stones. I pause before a particularly tall, narrow crack. Cool air wafts out.

Definitely there’s a void inside this rock pile. But this opening is far too skinny for human access, and I say that being a particularly skinny human.

“What?” Bob asks.

“Hold up your hand.”

He does as I instruct, nodding as he registers the breeze. I continue to study the opening. What is it that’s bothering me? What am I not seeing?

---