Page 89 of Power's Fall

“Drink,” he ordered.

Montana didn’t need to be told twice. Cottonmouth was a common side effect of his claustrophobia. He’d probably drunk an ocean of water during his time stationed on the submarine.

He drank the entire bottle before realizing how stupid and greedy that was. They should be rationing the water. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely, handing Vadisk the empty bottle.

Vadisk stashed the bottle in his bag and zipped it back up. “We’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Putting the bag on his back, he cupped Montana’s cheek fondly, then bent over to give Dahlia a kiss on the forehead. “You good to keep walking with Montana? I need to focus on the map.”

Dahlia nodded and reached out for him. Montana tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, appreciating the heat she was sharing. The cave was cold and his clothes were drenched from his swim through the sea. He had to clench his jaw tightly to keep his teeth from chattering.

She nuzzled against his chest. “We’ll take care of each other.”

Once again, his beautiful wife had found the words to soothe him. And now, Montana was starting to suffer other consequences of his panic attack.

Embarrassment. Guilt. Shame.

He could hear his father yelling in his ear, calling him weak, chastising him for putting the mission at risk.

Vadisk began walking again, slowly. He looked over his shoulder every few feet, though Montana wasn’t sure if he was doing a wellness check or making sure he wasn’t running back the way they’d come. It was a smart thing to do because him falling apart or trying to escape were both very real possibilities. Especially when the cave became tighter, Vadisk having to duck and turn sideways. A few times, Montana was forced to put Dahlia in front of him because they wouldn’t fit side by side.

Every time the walls widened, she was back by his side, her hand finding his chest. With each step they took, she whispered the words, “In. Hold. Out,” ensuring he remembered to breathe.

Montana wasn’t sure how long they walked, every minute feeling like a lifetime, but after approximately a hundred years, Vadisk paused, feeling what appeared to be a solid wall in front of them. He’d led them into a dead end.

Montana started to pant, even as he forced himself to attempt Dahlia’s counting.

“What is it?” she asked, curious about why they’d stopped.

“We have. To turn…around.” Montana gasped with each word.

“No. We don’t,” Vadisk said confidently. “It should be…” He paused. “Right here,” he added as he flashed the light into one corner. “Found it. This is going to be,” Vadisk sighed, “a little bit of a tight squeeze. I’ll go first, then help you through, Dahlia, and then I’ll come back for you, Montana.”

“Is there an exit that way?” Montana asked.

“Yes,” Vadisk reassured him.

“Then I’ll do it. I have to…” He was winded, each word costing him. But he knew they’d come too far already, taken too many twists and turns for him to find his way back to the entrance.

“Okay. Let’s move.” Vadisk had the big flashlight, so Montana felt a brief moment of panic when the light disappeared, leaving only the narrow beam of Dahlia’s flashlight illuminating the floor. Then Vadisk reappeared, holding out his flashlight to Montana, who gripped it like a lifeline.

Vadisk backed up until all that was visible was his hand reaching out, taking Dahlia’s.

It looked like a magic trick. One second, Dahlia was there, then, she was gone.

“What the fuck?” Montana breathed.

“The walls overlap. It looks solid, but it’s not.” Vadisk’s voice was muffled but audible.

He said he’d come back for Montana, but Montana wasn’t going to wait. Breathing in the rhythm Dahlia had been chanting for him, he slid around the edge of the rock wall, into the narrow opening.

“Montana?” Vadisk said in surprise.

“Keep going,” he panted.

It took them a few minutes, Vadisk guiding Dahlia through the maze of stone from the front, Montana only a few steps behind them. There were several tense moments when Montana froze, certain they were wedged in too tight, stuck.

Then Vadisk reached back, over Dahlia’s shoulder, and tugged him forward, until he was almost pressed against Dahlia’s back. He didn’t want that contact, not when he already felt like everything was pressing down on him. But when Dahlia curled her fingers around the buckle of his belt as she started forward, it grounded him.

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