Page 109 of Death Valley

Perhaps they can even be reasoned with.

Perhapsthat’sour way out of here.

“Some of these items look decades old,” Aubrey notes, carefully lifting a metal canteen of a design I haven’t seen since my grandfather’s day. “And look at this.”

Her light illuminates a far section of the chamber where the evidence of habitation becomes progressively older, more primitive. Structures made from branches and animal hides. Tools fashioned from bone and stone. Artifacts that speak of generations of occupation, stretching back far longer than seems possible.

“This can’t be right,” I mutter, crouching to examine what appears to be a handmade clay pot, its surface decorated withcrude symbols that echo the marks Lainey left. “The Donner Party incident was only 175 years ago. These artifacts look fuckin’ prehistoric.”

“Unless the hunger existed before,” Aubrey says, her voice taking on a detached, analytical quality that I recognize as her way of processing horror—distance, analyze, compartmentalize. “What if it wasn’t just the Donner Party survivors? What if the curse, or disease, or whatever it is, was already in these mountains? Something the native peoples knew about, avoided?”

I stand, troubled by the implication and yet not surprised. “The Indigenous warned about this, to the Donner Party themselves. It’s always been taboo to them. They knew what would happen and the settlers didn’t listen. Ain’t that always how it works?”

We continue exploring the settlement, moving deeper into the chamber, each discovery adding to the unsettling picture. The structures become more elaborate toward the center, as if denoting some kind of social hierarchy. Near what appears to be the largest shelter, we find a flat stone table surrounded by smaller stones arranged as seats.

“A meeting place?” Aubrey wonders aloud, running her hand along the worn surface of the table.

“Or a feeding place,” I say, pointing to dark stains that pattern the stone, too regular to be natural, too numerous to be accidental.

Aubrey pulls her hand back as if burned, wiping it instinctively against her jeans. “Christ,” she whispers, the professional detachment slipping momentarily.

“I’m sorry,” I say, not just for pointing out the stains, but for everything—for her sister, for the horrific truth we’re uncovering, for my own role in all of it. “I should have told you about Lainey from the beginning. Maybe then?—”

“It wouldn’t have changed anything,” she interrupts, her voice firm despite the tremor underneath. “I still would have come looking. I still would have ended up here. The only difference is I might have been alone.”

Our eyes meet in the dim light, understanding passing between us. Whatever lies between us—the attraction, the connection, the complications of our respective deceptions—at least we’re facing this horror together. Neither of us has to carry this burden alone.

Neither of us have to die alone.

A loud crack suddenly splits the silence, followed by a low rumble that seems to come from all around us. The ground beneath our feet trembles, a fine shower of dust and small rocks raining down from the unseen ceiling.

“What’s happening?” Aubrey asks, instinctively moving closer to me.

“Cave-in,” I reply, grabbing her arm and sheltering her. “We need to move. Now!”

We run toward the passage we entered through, but the rumbling intensifies, the ground shaking violently enough to make staying upright a challenge. A deafening crash erupts behind us, the sound of tons of rock giving way, falling.

I push Aubrey ahead of me, toward the relative safety of the narrower passage. “Go!” I shout over the cacophony of collapsing stone. “I’m right behind you!”

She darts forward, nimble despite the unsteady ground. I follow, barely a step behind, when the world seems to explode around me. A massive slab of ceiling crashes down directly in my path, missing me by inches but completely blocking the passage. The impact throws me backwards, dust and debris enveloping me in a choking cloud.

For a moment, I can’t see, can’t hear anything beyond the ringing in my ears and my own desperate coughing. Then Aubrey’s voice cuts through, muffled by the rockfall between us.

“Jensen! Jensen, are you alright?”

I struggle to my feet, moving toward the wall of fallen rock that now separates us. “I’m okay,” I call back, pressing my hand against the cool stone barrier. “Just got the wind knocked out of me. Are you hurt?”

“No, I’m fine,” she replies, her voice strained with worry. “But the passage is completely blocked. I can’t see any way through.”

I shine my flashlight around, assessing the damage. The collapse is comprehensive—tons of rock filling the passage from floor to ceiling, impossible to shift without equipment we don’t have.

“I’ll have to find another way around,” I tell her, trying to keep my voice level despite the panic bubbling in my chest. The thought of Aubrey alone on the other side, vulnerable to whatever might be prowling these caves, sends a cold spike of fear through me. “Stay put. I’ll circle back to you.”

“No,” she responds immediately, her tone brooking no argument. “That’s a waste of time. We need to keep moving forward. There has to be another way through on your side.”

“Aubrey, I’m not leaving you?—”

“You’re not leaving me,” she cuts in. “We’re both heading toward the same place. We’ll find each other. I have my gun, the journal, and a flashlight. I’ll be okay.”

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