Page 16 of Explorer's Revenge
It’s not a huge cavern despite what I initially thought, maybe around a hundred feet wide. It’s jagged and uneven, the rock is slick down here, and foliage grows from cracks in the walls and floor.
I can’t see any other holes or entrances and exits, which means there isn’t much in terms of the lost city down here, but it doesn’t mean it isn’t cool to explore.
I investigate the area under the entrance first, finding some cool, old markings along the floor, and then I head farther into the shadows, spinning my light over the walls. The lights I threw down glow red, and maybe it’s that, but something here makes me shiver.
I’m scanning the back wall when something makes me still.
Narrowing my eyes, I shine my flashlight on what caught my attention, and I silently tread across the slick cavern, walking past my rope and into the shadows.
On the black rock are gray furrows. Five of them drag down, the jagged marks deep enough to scar the surface. Tilting my head, I eye them. Is it an animal mark? Did it fall and get trapped?
Something protrudes from one of the furrows, and I pluck it free, my blood running cold when I realize it’s a broken, bloody fingernail.
Holding out my hand, I press it to the marks and slide it down, realization settling in.
These are from a human hand.
Spinning, I scan the cavern with new eyes.
Did someone fall down here? Did they get trapped and try to claw their way out? Staying quiet, I walk the perimeter, knowing what I will find.
At the very back, huddled, as if trying to hide or avoid death, is a body.
The skeleton is positioned with one hand out, its head turned away. I don’t know how long ago they fell down here, but it’s clear nature has eaten away at the flesh. Crouching, I eye it sadly.
How horrible it must have been to starve, alone and terrified, while trapped down here when the exit is just above.
I could try to haul the body out and bury it, but that seems more disrespectful than just leaving it. I don’t want to disturb their resting place. Instead, I bow my head and close my eyes, offering my condolences and hopes for a peaceful afterlife for them, and I make a note to delete any camera footage from down here.
Heading back to my rope, I tie myself in it, and with one last glance around, I push off and start to climb up, ignoring all the other scratches and marks of desperation. Once I’m in thesunshine, I lie back, my heart aching for that person. My legs dangle into the hole when I swear something passes under them.
Yanking them up, I peer inside, but there’s nothing there, so I let out a bitter laugh.
“Imagination, my girl,” I mutter as I untie my rope, wind it up, and tug my pack on. Shaking off the clinging feeling of dread, I grab a piece of wood and use my blade to carve it into a cross, then I place it before the hole for when I come back. Hopefully once I find the city, someone can collect the body.
Just in case, I send my wishes down again and head off into the jungle.
My heart is heavy, my excitement gone at the reminder of the brutality of nature and how easy it would be to perish in my line of work with no one the wiser.
Would I just be forgotten, left to rot and die alone?
Would anyone care?
THIRTEEN
WAY
As we come upon the building, I realize two things very quickly.
First, there is more than one.
Second, they are very old.
These are made from wood, clearly well-constructed, and small but homey. They are in an encampment of sorts, the jungle reclaiming a few of them and growing over. It’s obviously been years since they were inhabited, but it means more than one person lived here at some point.
Is this where the curse rumor started?
Who knows, but it’s exciting to think people have been here before, maybe even found the city and left it—or protected it.
